UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT   LOS  ANGELES 


THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 
OF  A  QUACK 


AND  DO  YOU  MEAN  TO  SAY  HE  WASN'T  POISONED?'  SAID  SHE. 


autbor'e  Definitive  jemtion 

THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

OF  A  QUACK  *  AND 

OTHER  STORIES 


S.  WEIR   MITCHELL,  M.D. 

LL.D.    HARVARD    AND    EDINBURGH 


NEW  YORK 

THE  CENTURY  CO. 
1905 


Copyright,  1880,  by 

J.  B.  LlPPINCOTT  &  CO. 

Copyright,  1899,  1900,  by 

THE  CENTURY  Co. 


THE  DEVINNE  PRESS. 


•PS 


CONTENTS 


THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK  ...  3 

THE  CASE  OF  GEORGE  DEDLOW       ,  f    •  .        .  83 

HEPHZIBAH  GUINNESS       .        .        .  .        .        .  113 

THEE  AND  You          .        .        .        .  .        .        .  207 

A  DRAFT  ON  THE  BANK  OF  SPAIN  .  ...  283 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


'  'AND  DO  YOU  MEAN  TO  SAY  HE  WAS  N'T  POISONED?' 

SAID  SHE"  .  .          .          .          .  Frontispiece 

'  '  SIT  DOWN,'  HE  SAID.        <  WHAT  A  FOOL  Facing  Page 

YOU  ARE ! '"      .        .        .        .        .        .        .      40 

(THE  BIG  BIBLE  LAY  OPEN  ON  THE  FLOOR"  .        .      64 


INTRODUCTION. 

THE  first  two  tales  in  this  little  volume  appeared 
originally  in  the  "  Atlantic  Monthly  "  as  anonymous 
contributions.  I  owe  to  the  present  owners  of  that 
journal  permission  to  use  them.  "  The  Autobiog- 
raphy of  a  Quack  "  has  been  recast  with  large  ad- 
ditions. 

"  The  Case  of  George  Dedlow  "  was  not  written 
with  any  intention  that  it  should  appear  in  print.  I 
lent  the  manuscript  to  the  Rev.  Dr.  Furness  and  for- 
got it.  This  gentleman  sent  it  to  the  Rev.  Edward 
Everett  Hale.  He,  presuming,  I  fancy,  that  every 
one  desired  to  appear  in  the  "  Atlantic,"  offered  it 
to  that  journal.  To  my  surprise,  soon  afterwards 
I  received  a  proof  and  a  check.  The  story  was 
inserted  as  a  leading  article  without  my  name.  It 
was  at  once  accepted  by  many  as  the  description  of 
a  real  case.  Money  was  collected  in  several  places 
to  assist  the  unfortunate  man,  and  benevolent  per- 
sons went  to  the  "  Stump  Hospital,"  in  Philadelphia, 
to  see  the  sufferer  and  to  offer  him  aid.  The  spirit- 
ual incident  at  the  end  of  the  story  was  received 
with  joy  by  the  spiritualists  as  a  valuable  proof  of 
the  truth  of  their  beliefs. 

S.  WEIR  MITCHELL. 


THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 
OF  A  QUACK 


THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY 
OF  A   QUACK. 

AT  this  present  moment  of  time  I  am  what  the 
doctors  call  an  interesting  case,  and  am  to  be  found 
in  bed  No.  10,  Ward  n,  Massachusetts  General 
Hospital.  I  am  told  that  I  have  what  is  called 
Addison's  disease,  and  that  it  is  this  pleasing  malady 
which  causes  me  to  be  covered  with  large  blotches 
of  a  dark  mulatto  tint.  However,  it  is  a  rather  grim 
subject  to  joke  about,  because,  if  I  believed  the  doc- 
tor who  comes  around  every  day,  and  thumps  me, 
and  listens  to  my  chest  with  as  much  pleasure  as  if 
I  were  music  all  through — I  say,  if  I  really  believed 
him,  I  should  suppose  I  was  going  to  die.  The  fact 
is,  I  don't  believe  him  at  all.  Some  of  these  days 
I  shall  take  a  turn  and  get  about  again ;  but  mean- 
while it  is  rather  dull  for  a  stirring,  active  person 
like  me  to  have  to  lie  still  and  watch  myself  getting 
big  brown  and  yellow  spots  all  over  me,  like  a  map 
that  has  taken  to  growing. 

The  man  on  my  right  has  consumption — smells 

of  cod-liver  oil,  and  coughs  all  night.     The  man  on 

my  left  is  a  down-Easter  with  a  liver  which  has 

struck  work ;  looks  like  a  human  pumpkin ;  and  how 

3 


4          THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF  A   QUACK 

he  contrives  to  whittle  jackstraws  all  day,  and  eat 
as  he  does,  I  can't  understand.  I  have  tried  reading 
and  tried  whittling,  but  they  don't  either  of  them 
satisfy  me,  so  that  yesterday  I  concluded  to  ask  the 
doctor  if  he  could  n't  suggest  some  other  amuse- 
ment. 

I  waited  until  he  had  gone  through  the  ward, 
and  then  seized  my  chance,  and  asked  him  to  stop 
a  moment. 

"  Well,  my  man,"  said  he,  "  what  do  you  want?  " 

I  thought  him  rather  disrespectful,  but  I  replied, 
"  Something  to  do,  doctor." 

He  thought  a  little,  and  then  said :  "  I  '11  tell  you 
what  to  do.  I  think  if  you  were  to  write  out  a 
plain  account  of  your  life  it  would  be  pretty  well 
worth  reading.  If  half  of  what  you  told  me  last 
week  be  true,  you  must  be  about  as  clever  a  scamp 
as  there  is  to  be  met  with.  I  suppose  you  would 
just  as  lief  put  it  on  paper  as  talk  it." 

"  Pretty  nearly,"  said  I.  "I  think  I  will  try  it, 
doctor." 

After  he  left  I  lay  awhile  thinking  over  the  mat- 
ter. I  knew  well  that  I  was  what  the  world  calls  a 
scamp,  and  I  knew  also  that  I  had  got  little  good 
out  of  the  fact.  If  a  man  is  what  people  call  vir- 
tuous, and  fails  in  life,  he  gets  credit  at  least  for  the 
virtue  ;  but  when  a  man  is  a — is — well,  one  of  liberal 
views,  and  breaks  down,  somehow  or  other  people 
don't  credit  him  with  even  the  intelligence  he  has 
put  into  the  business.  This  I  call  hard.  If  I  did 
not  recall  with  satisfaction  the  energy  and  skill  with 
which  I  did  my  work,  I  should  be  nothing  but  dis- 


THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A   QUACK  5 

gusted  at  the  melancholy  spectacle  of  my  failure. 
I  suppose  that  I  shall  at  least  find  occupation  in 
reviewing  all  this,  and  I  think,  therefore,  for  my 
own  satisfaction,  I  shall  try  to  amuse  my  convales- 
cence by  writing  a  plain,  straightforward  account  of 
the  life  I  have  led,  and  the  various  devices  by  which 
I  have  sought  to  get  my  share  of  the  money  of  my 
countrymen.  It  does  appear  to  me  that  I  have  had 
no  end  of  bad  luck. 

As  no  one  will  ever  see  these  pages,  I  find  it 
pleasant  to  recall  for  my  own  satisfaction  the  fact 
that  I  am  really  a  very  remarkable  man.  I  am,  or 
rather  I  was,  very  good-looking,  five  feet  eleven, 
with  a  lot  of  curly  red  hair,  and  blue  eyes.  I  am 
left-handed,  which  is  another  unusual  thing.  My 
hands  have  often  been  noticed.  I  get  them  from 
my  mother,  who  was  a  Fishbourne,  and  a  lady.  As 
for  my  father,  he  was  rather  common.  He  was  a 
little  man,  red  and  round  like  an  apple,  but  very 
strong,  for  a  reason  I  shall  come  to  presently.  The 
family  must  have  had  a  pious  liking  for  Bible 
names,  because  he  was  called  Zebulon,  my  sister 
Peninnah,  and  I  Ezra,  which  is  not  a  name  for 
a  gentleman.  At  one  time  I  thought  of  chang- 
ing it,  but  I  got  over  it  by  signing  myself  "  E. 
Sandcraft." 

Where  my  father  was  born  I  do  not  know,  except 
that  it  was  somewhere  in  New  Jersey,  for  I  remem- 
ber that  he  was  once  angry  because  a  man  called 
him  a  Jersey  Spaniard.  I  am  not  much  concerned 
to  write  about  my  people,  because  I  soon  got  above 
their  level ;  and  as  to  my  mother,  she  died  when  I 


6         THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF  A  QUACK 

was  an  infant.  I  get  my  manners,  which  are  rather 
remarkable,  from  her. 

My  aunt,  Rachel  Sandcraft,  who  kept  house  for 
us,  was  a  queer  character.  She  had  a  snug  little 
property,  about  seven  thousand  dollars.  An  old 
aunt  left  her  the  money  because  she  was  stone-deaf. 
As  this  defect  came  upon  her  after  she  grew  up,  she 
still  kept  her  voice.  This  woman  was  the  cause  of 
some  of  my  ill  luck  in  life,  and  I  hope  she  is  uncom- 
fortable, wherever  she  is.  I  think  with  satisfaction 
that  I  helped  to  make  her  life  uneasy  when  I  was 
young,  and  worse  later  on.  She  gave  away  to  the 
idle  poor  some  of  her  small  income,  and  hid  the  rest, 
like  a  magpie,  in  her  Bible  or  rolled  in  her  stockings, 
or  in  even  queerer  places.  The  worst  of  her  was 
that  she  could  tell  what  people  said  by  looking  at 
their  lips ;  this  I  hated.  But  as  I  grew  and  became 
intelligent,  her  ways  of  hiding  her  money  proved 
useful,  to  me  at  least.  As  to  Peninnah,  she  was 
nothing  special  until  she  suddenly  bloomed  out  into 
a  rather  stout,  pretty  girl,  took  to  ribbons,  and  liked 
what  she  called  "  keeping  company."  She  ran 
errands  for  every  one,  waited  on  my  aunt,  and 
thought  I  was  a  wonderful  person — as  indeed  I  was. 
I  never  could  understand  her  fondness  for  helping 
everybody.  A  fellow  has  got  himself  to  think 
about,  and  that  is  quite  enough.  I  was  told  pretty 
often  that  I  was  the  most  selfish  boy  alive.  But, 
then,  I  am  an  unusual  person,  and  there  are  several 
names  for  things. 

My  father  kept  a  small  shop  for  the  sale  of  legal 
stationery  and  the  like,  on  Fifth  Street  north  of 


THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A   QUACK  7 

Chestnut.  But  his  chief  interest  in  life  lay  in  the 
bell-ringing  of  Christ  Church.  He  was  leader,  or 
No.  i,  and  the  whole  business  was  in  the  hands  of 
a  kind  of  guild  which  is  nearly  as  old  as  the  church. 
I  used  to  hear  more  of  it  than  I  liked,  because  my 
father  talked  of  nothing  else.  But  I  do  not  mean 
to  bore  myself  writing  of  bells.  I  heard  too  much 
about  "back  shake,"  "raising  in  peal,"  "scales," 
and  "  touches,"  and  the  Lord  knows  what. 

My  earliest  remembrance  is  of  sitting  on  my 
father's  shoulder  when  he  led  off  the  ringers.  He 
was  very  strong,  as  I  said,  by  reason  of  this  exer- 
cise. With  one  foot  caught  in  a  loop  of  leather 
nailed  to  the  floor,  he  would  begin  to  pull  No.  I, 
and  by  and  by  the  whole  peal  would  be  swinging, 
and  he  going  up  and  down,  to  my  joy ;  I  used  to 
feel  as  if  it  was  I  that  was  making  the  great  noise 
that  rang  out  all  over  the  town.  My  familiar  ac- 
quaintance with  the  old  church  and  its  lumber- 
rooms,  where  were  stored  the  dusty  arms  of  William 
and  Mary  and  George  II.,  proved  of  use  in  my 
later  days. 

My  father  had  a  strong  belief  in  my  talents,  and 
I  do  not  think  he  was  mistaken.  As  he  was  quite 
uneducated,  he  determined  that  I  should  not  be. 
He  had  saved  enough  to  send  me  to  Princeton  Col- 
lege, and  when  I  was  about  fifteen  I  was  set  free 
from  the  public  schools.  I  never  liked  them.  The 
last  I  was  at  was  the  high  school.  As  I  had  to 
come  down-town  to  get  home,  we  used  to  meet  on 
Arch  Street  the  boys  from  the  grammar-school  of 
the  university,  and  there  were  fights  every  week. 


8          THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A   QUACK 

In  winter  these  were  most  frequent,  because  of  the 
snowballing.  A  fellow  had  to  take  his  share  or  be 
marked  as  a  deserter.  I  never  saw  any  personal 
good  to  be  had  out  of  a  fight,  but  it  was  better  to 
fight  than  to  be  cobbed.  That  means  that  two  fel- 
lows hold  you,  and  the  other  fellows  kick  you  with 
their  bent  knees.  It  hurts. 

I  find  just  here  that  I  am  describing  a  thing  as  if 
I  were  writing  for  some  other  people  to  see.  I  may 
as  well  go  on  that  way.  After  all,  a  man  never  can 
quite  stand  off  and  look  at  himself  as  if  he  was  the 
only  person  concerned.  He  must  have  an  audience, 
or  make  believe  to  have  one,  even  if  it  is  only  him- 
self. Nor,  on  the  whole,  should  I  be  unwilling,  if  it 
were  safe,  to  let  people  see  how  great  ability  may 
be  defeated  by  the  crankiness  of  fortune. 

I  may  add  here  that  a  stone  inside  of  a  snowball 
discourages  the  fellow  it  hits.  But  neither  our  fel- 
lows nor  the  grammar-school  used  stones  in  snow- 
balls. I  rather  liked  it.  If  we  had  a  row  in  the 
springtime  we  all  threw  stones,  and  here  was  one  of 
those  bits  of  stupid  custom  no  man  can  understand  ; 
because  really  a  stone  outside  of  a  snowball  is  much 
more  serious  than  if  it  is  mercifully  padded  with 
snow.  I  felt  it  to  be  a  rise  in  life  when  I  got  out  of 
the  society  of  the  common  boys  who  attended  the 
high  school. 

When  I  was  there  a  man  by  the  name  of  Dallas 
Bache  was  the  head  master.  He  had  a  way  of  let- 
ting the  boys  attend  to  what  he  called  the  character 
of  the  school.  Once  I  had  to  lie  to  him  about  tak- 
ing another  boy's  ball.  He  told  my  class  that  I  had 


THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A   QUACK  9 

denied  the  charge,  and  that  he  always  took  it  for 
granted  that  a  boy  spoke  the  truth.  He  knew  well 
enough  what  would  happen.  It  did.  After  that  I 
was  careful. 

Princeton  was  then  a  little  college,  not  expensive, 
which  was  very  well,  as  my  father  had  some  diffi- 
culty to  provide  even  the  moderate  amount  needed. 

I  soon  found  that  if  I  was  to  associate  with  the 
upper  set  of  young  men  I  needed  money.  For 
some  time  I  waited  in  vain.  But  in  my  second 
year  I  discovered  a  small  gold-mine,  on  which  I 
drew  with  a  moderation  which  shows  even  thus  early 
the  strength  of  my  character. 

I  used  to  go  home  once  a  month  for  a  Sunday 
visit,  and  on  these  occasions  I  was  often  able  to 
remove  from  my  aunt's  big  Bible  a  five-  or  ten- 
dollar  note,  which  otherwise  would  have  been  long 
useless. 

Now  and  then  I  utilized  my  opportunities  at 
Princeton.  I  very  much  desired  certain  things  like 
well-made  clothes,  and  for  these  I  had  to  run  in 
debt  to  a  tailor.  When  he  wanted  pay,  and  threat- 
ened to  send  the  bill  to  my  father,  I  borrowed  from 
two  or  three  young  Southerners ;  but  at  last,  when 
they  became  hard  up,  my  aunt's  uncounted  hoard 
proved  a  last  resource,  or  some  rare  chance  in  a 
neighboring  room  helped  me  out.  I  never  did  look 
on  this  method  as  of  permanent  usefulness,  and  it 
was  only  the  temporary  folly  of  youth. 

Whatever  else  the  pirate  necessity  appropriated, 
I  took  no  large  amount  of  education,  although  I  was 
fond  of  reading,  and  especially  of  novels,  which  are, 


10       THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A   QUACK 

I  think,  very  instructive  to  the  young,  especially  the 
novels  of  Smollett  and  Fielding. 

There  is,  however,  little  need  to  dwell  on  this 
part  of  my  life.  College  students  in  those  days 
were  only  boys,  and  boys  are  very  strange  animals. 
They  have  instincts.  They  somehow  get  to  know 
if  a  fellow  does  not  relate  facts  as  they  took  place. 
I  like  to  put  it  that  way,  because,  after  all,  the  mode 
of  putting  things  is  only  one  of  the  forms  of  self- 
defense,  and  is  less  silly  than  the  ordinary  wriggling 
methods  which  boys  employ,  and  which  are  gener- 
ally useless.  I  was  rather  given  to  telling  large 
stories  just  for  the  fun  of  it,  and,  I  think,  told  them 
well.  But  somehow  I  got  the  reputation  of  not 
being  strictly  definite,  and  when  it  was  meant  to 
indicate  this  belief  they  had  an  ill-mannered  way  of 
informing  you.  This  consisted  in  two  or  three  fel- 
lows standing  up  and  shuffling  noisily  with  their 
feet  on  the  floor.  When  first  I  heard  this  I  asked 
innocently  what  it  meant,  and  was  told  it  was  the 
noise  of  the  bearers'  feet  coming  to  take  away 
Ananias.  This  was  considered  a  fine  joke. 

During  my  junior  year  I  became  unpopular,  and 
as  I  was  very  cautious,  I  cannot  see  why.  At  last, 
being  hard  up,  I  got  to  be  foolishly  reckless.  But 
why  dwell  on  the  failures  of  immaturity  ? 

The  causes  which  led  to  my  leaving  Nassau  Hall 
were  not,  after  all,  the  mischievous  outbreaks  in 
which  college  lads  indulge.  Indeed,  I  have  never 
been  guilty  of  any  of  those  pieces  of  wanton  wicked- 
ness which  injure  the  feelings  of  others  while  they 
lead  to  no  useful  result.  When  I  left  to  return 


THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF   A   QUACK.        II 

home,  I  set  myself  seriously  to  reflect  upon  the 
necessity  of  greater  care  in  following  out  my  inclina- 
tions, and  from  that  time  forward  I  have  steadily 
avoided,  whenever  it  was  possible,  the  vulgar  vice 
of  directly  possessing  myself  of  objects  to  which  I 
could  show  no  legal  title.  My  father  was  indignant 
at  the  results  of  my  college  career;  and,  according 
to  my  aunt,  his  shame  and  sorrow  had  some  effect 
in  shortening  his  life.  My  sister  believed  my  ac- 
count of  the  matter.  It  ended  in  my  being  used 
for  a  year  as  an  assistant  in  the  shop,  and  in  being 
taught  to  ring  bells — a  fine  exercise,  but  not  proper 
work  for  a  man  of  refinement.  My  father  died 
while  training  his  bell-ringers  in  the  Oxford  triple 
bob — broke  a  blood-vessel  somewhere.  How  I 
could  have  caused  that  I  do  not  see. 

I  was  now  about  nineteen  years  old,  and,  as  I 
remember,  a  middle-sized,  well-built  young  fellow, 
with  large  eyes,  a  slight  mustache,  and,  I  have 
been  told,  with  very  good  manners  and  a  somewhat 
humorous  turn.  Besides  these  advantages,  my 
guardian  held  in  trust  for  me  about  two  thousand 
dollars.  After  some  consultation  between  us,  it 
was  resolved  that  I  should  study  medicine.  This 
conclusion  was  reached  nine  years  before  the  Re- 
bellion broke  out,  and  after  we  had  settled,  for  the 
sake  of  economy,  in  Woodbury,  New  Jersey.  From 
this  time  I  saw  very  little  of  my  deaf  aunt  or  of 
Peninnah.  I  was  resolute  to  rise  in  the  world,  and 
not  to  be  weighted  by  relatives  who  were  without 
my  tastes  and  my  manners. 

I  set  out  for  Philadelphia,  with  many  good  coun- 


12        THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A   QUACK 

sels  from  my  aunt  and  guardian.  I  look  back  upon 
this  period  as  a  turning-point  of  my  life.  I  had 
seen  enough  of  the  world  already  to  know  that  if 
you  can  succeed  without  exciting  suspicion,  it  is  by 
far  the  pleasantest  way ;  and  I  really  believe  that  if 
I  had  not  been  endowed  with  so  fatal  a  liking  for 
all  the  good  things  of  life  I  might  have  lived  along 
as  reputably  as  most  men.  This,  however,  is,  and 
always  has  been,  my  difficulty,  and  I  suppose  that 
I  am  not  responsible  for  the  incidents  to  which  it 
gave  rise.  Most  men  have  some  ties  in  life,  but  I 
have  said  I  had  none  which  held  me.  Peninnah 
cried  a  good  deal  when  we  parted,  and  this,  I  think, 
as  I  was  still  young,  had  a  very  good  effect  in 
strengthening  my  resolution  to  do  nothing  which 
could  get  me  into  trouble.  The  janitor  of  the  col- 
lege to  which  I  went  directed  me  to  a  boarding- 
house,  where  I  engaged  a  small  third-story  room, 
which  I  afterwards  shared  with  Mr.  Chaucer  of 
Georgia.  He  pronounced  it,  as  I  remember,  "  Jaw- 
jah." 

In  this  very  remarkable  abode  I  spent  the  next 
two  winters,  and  finally  graduated,  along  with  two 
hundred  more,  at  the  close  of  my  two  years  of  study. 
I  should  previously  have  been  one  year  in  a  phy- 
sician's office  as  a  student,  but  this  regulation  was 
very  easily  evaded.  As  to  my  studies,  the  less  said 
the  better.  I  attended  the  quizzes,  as  they  call 
them,  pretty  closely,  and,  being  of  a  quick  and 
retentive  memory,  was  thus  enabled  to  dispense 
with  some  of  the  six  or  seven  lectures  a  day  which 
duller  men  found  it  necessary  to  follow. 


THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF   A   QUACK         13 

Dissecting  struck  me  as  a  rather  nasty  business 
for  a  gentleman,  and  on  this  account  I  did  just  as 
little  as  was  absolutely  essential.  In  fact,  if  a  man 
took  his  tickets  and  paid  the  dissection  fees,  nobody 
troubled  himself  as  to  whether  or  not  he  did  any 
more  than  this.  A  like  evil  existed  at  the  gradua- 
tion :  whether  you  squeezed  through  or  passed  with 
credit  was  a  thing  which  was  not  made  public,  so 
that  I  had  absolutely  nothing  to  stimulate  my  am- 
bition. I  am  told  that  it  is  all  very  different  to- 
day. 

The  astonishment  with  which  I  learned  of  my 
success  was  shared  by  the  numerous  Southern  gen- 
tlemen who  darkened  the  floors  and  perfumed  with 
tobacco  the  rooms  of  our  boarding-house.  In  my 
companions,  during  the  time  of  my  studies  so 
called,  as  in  other  matters  of  life,  I  was  somewhat 
unfortunate.  All  of  them  were  Southern  gentle- 
men, with  more  money  than  I  had.  Many  of  them 
carried  great  sticks,  usually  sword-canes,  and  some 
bowie-knives  or  pistols ;  also,  they  delighted  in 
swallow-tailed  coats,  long  hair,  broad-brimmed  felt 
hats,  and  very  tight  boots.  I  often  think  of  these 
gentlemen  with  affectionate  interest,  and  wonder 
how  many  are  lying  under  the  wheat-fields  of  Vir- 
ginia. One  could  see  them  any  day  sauntering 
along  with  their  arms  over  their  companions'  shoul- 
ders, splendidly  indifferent  to  the  ways  of  the  peo- 
ple about  them.  They  hated  the  "  Nawth "  and 
cursed  the  Yankees,  and  honestly  believed  that  the 
leanest  of  them  was  a  match  for  any  half  a  dozen  of 
the  bulkiest  of  Northerners.  I  must  also  do  them 


14       THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A  QUACK 

the  justice  to  say  that  they  were  quite  as  ready  to 
fight  as  to  brag,  which,  by  the  way,  is  no  meager 
statement.  With  these  gentry — for  whom  I  retain 
a  respect  which  filled  me  with  regret  at  the  recent 
course  of  events — I  spent  a  good  deal  of  my  large 
leisure.  The  more  studious  of  both  sections  called 
us  a  hard  crowd.  What  we  did,  or  how  we  did  it, 
little  concerns  me  here,  except  that,  owing  to  my 
esteem  for  chivalric  blood  and  breeding,  I  was  led 
into  many  practices  and  excesses  which  cost  my 
guardian  and  myself  a  good  deal  of  money.  At  the 
close  of  my  career  as  a  student  I  found  myself  aged 
twenty-one  years,  and  the  owner  of  some  seven 
hundred  dollars — the  rest  of  my  small  estate  hav- 
ing disappeared  variously  within  the  last  two  years. 
After  my  friends  had  gone  to  their  homes  in  the 
South  I  began  to  look  about  me  for  an  office,  and 
finally  settled  upon  very  good  rooms  in  one  of  the 
down-town  localities  of  the  Quaker  City.  I  am  not 
specific  as  to  the  number  and  street,  for  reasons 
which  may  hereafter  appear.  I  liked  the  situation 
on  various  accounts.  It  had  been  occupied  by  a 
doctor ;  the  terms  were  reasonable ;  and  it  lay  on 
the  skirts  of  a  good  neighborhood,  while  below  it 
lived  a  motley  population,  among  which  I  expected 
to  get  my  first  patients  and  such  fees  as  were  to  be 
had.  Into  this  new  home  I  moved  my  medical 
text-books,  a  few  bones,  and  myself.  Also,  I  dis- 
played in  the  window  a  fresh  sign,  upon  which  was 
distinctly  to  be  read : 

DR.  E.  SANDCRAFT. 

Office  hours,  8  to  9  A.M.,  7  to  9  P.M. 


THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A   QUACK         15 

I  felt  now  that  I  had  done  my  fair  share  toward 
attaining  a  virtuous  subsistence,  and  so  I  waited 
tranquilly,  and  without  undue  enthusiasm,  to  see 
the  rest  of  the  world  do  its  part  in  the  matter. 
Meanwhile  I  read  up  on  all  sorts  of  imaginable  cases, 
stayed  at  home  all  through  my  office  hours,  and  at 
intervals  explored  the  strange  section  of  the  town 
which  lay  to  the  south  of  my  office.  I  do  not  sup- 
pose there  is  anything  like  it  elsewhere.  It  was 
then  filled  with  grog-shops,  brothels,  slop-shops, 
and  low  lodging-houses.  You  could  dine  for  a 
penny  on  soup  made  from  the  refuse  meats  of  the 
rich,  gathered  at  back  gates  by  a  horde  of  half- 
naked  children,  who  all  told  varieties  of  one  woeful 
tale.  Here,  too,  you  could  be  drunk  for  five  cents, 
and  be  lodged  for  three,  with  men,  women,  and 
children  of  all  colors  lying  about  you.  It  was  this 
hideous  mixture  of  black  and  white  and  yellow 
wretchedness  which  made  the  place  so  peculiar. 
The  blacks  predominated,  and  had  mostly  that 
swollen,  reddish,  dark  skin,  the  sign  in  this  race  of 
habitual  drunkenness.  Of  course  only  the  lowest 
whites  were  here — rag-pickers,  pawnbrokers,  old- 
clothes  men,  thieves,  and  the  like.  All  of  this,  as 
it  came  before  me,  I  viewed  with  mingled  disgust 
and  philosophy.  I  hated  filth,  but  I  understood 
that  society  has  to  stand  on  somebody,  and  I  was 
only  glad  that  I  was  not  one  of  the  undermost  and 
worst-squeezed  bricks. 

I  can  hardly  believe  that  I  waited  a  month  with- 
out having  been  called  upon  by  a  single  patient. 
At  last  a  policeman  on  our  beat  brought  me  a  fancy 


1 6       THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A   QUACK 

man  with  a  dog-bite.  This  patient  recommended 
me  to  his  brother,  the  keeper  of  a  small  pawnbrok- 
ing-shop,  and  by  very  slow  degrees  I  began  to  get 
stray  patients  who  were  too  poor  to  indulge  in 
up-town  doctors.  I  found  the  police  very  useful 
acquaintances ;  and,  by  a  drink  or  a  cigar  now  and 
then,  I  got  most  of  the  cases  of  cut  heads  and  the 
like  at  the  next  station-house.  These,  however, 
were  the  aristocrats  of  my  practice ;  the  bulk  of  my 
patients  were  soap-fat  men,  rag-pickers,  oystermen, 
hose-house  bummers,  and  worse,  with  other  and 
nameless  trades,  men  and  women,  white,  black,  or 
mulatto.  How  they  got  the  levies,  fips,  and  quar- 
ters with  which  I  was  reluctantly  paid,  I  do  not 
know;  that,  indeed,  was  none  of  my  business. 
They  expected  to  pay,  and  they  came  to  me  in 
preference  to  the  dispensary  doctor,  two  or  three 
squares  away,  who  seemed  to  me  to  spend  most  of 
his  days  in  the  lanes  and  alleys  about  us.  Of 
course  he  received  no  pay  except  experience,  since 
the  dispensaries  in  the  Quaker  City,  as  a  rule,  do 
not  give  salaries  to  their  doctors ;  and  the  vilest  of 
the  poor  prefer  a  "pay  doctor"  to  one  of  these 
disinterested  gentlemen,  who  cannot  be  expected  to 
give  their  best  brains  for  nothing,  when  at  every- 
body's beck  and  call.  I  am  told,  indeed  I  know, 
that  most  young  doctors  do  a  large  amount  of  poor 
practice,  as  it  is  called ;  but,  for  my  own  part,  I 
think  it  better  for  both  parties  when  the  doctor 
insists  upon  some  compensation  being  made  to  him. 
This  has  been  usually  my  own  custom,  and  I  have 
not  found  reason  to  regret  it. 


THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A   QUACK         I/ 

Notwithstanding  my  strict  attention  to  my  own 
interests,  I  have  been  rather  sorely  dealt  with  by 
fate  upon  several  occasions,  where,  so  far  as  I  could 
see,  I  was  vigilantly  doing  everything  in  my  power 
to  keep  myself  out  of  trouble  or  danger.  I  may  as 
well  relate  one  of  them,  merely  to  illustrate  of  how 
little  value  a  man's  intellect  may  be  when  fate  and 
the  prejudices  of  the  mass  of  men  are  against  him. 

One  evening,  late,  I  myself  answered  a  ring  at 
the  bell,  and  found  a  small  black  boy  on  the  steps, 
a  shoeless,  hatless  little  wretch,  curled  darkness  for 
hair,  and  teeth  like  new  tombstones.  It  was  pretty 
cold,  and  he  was  relieving  his  feet  by  standing  first 
on  one  and  then  on  the  other.  He  did  not  wait  for 
me  to  speak. 

"  Hi,  sah,  Missey  Barker  she  say  to  come  quick 
away,  sah,  to  Numbah  709  Bedford  Street." 

The  locality  did  not  look  like  pay,  but  it  is  hard 
to  say  in  this  quarter,  because  sometimes  you  found 
a  well-to-do  "brandy-snifter"  (local  for  gin-shop)  or 
a  hard-working  "leather-jeweler"  (ditto  for  shoe- 
maker), with  next  door,  in  a  house  better  or  worse, 
dozens  of  human  rats  for  whom  every  police  trap  in 
the  city  was  constantly  set. 

With  a  doubt  in  my  mind  as  to  whether  I  should 
find  a  good  patient  or  some  dirty  nigger,  I  sought 
the  place  to  which  I  had  been  directed.  I  did  not 
like  its  looks ;  but  I  blundered  up  an  alley  and  into 
a  back  room,  where  I  fell  over  somebody,  and  was 
cursed  and  told  to  lie  down  and  keep  easy,  or  some- 
body, meaning  the  man  stumbled  over,  would  make 
me.  At  last  I  lit  on  a  staircase  which  led  into  the 


1 8       THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK 

alley,  and,  after  much  useless  inquiry,  got  as  high  as 
the  garret.  People  hereabout  did  not  know  one 
another,  or  did  not  want  to  know,  so  that  it  was  of 
little  avail  to  ask  questions.  At  length  I  saw  a 
light  through  the  cracks  in  the  attic  door,  and  walked 
in.  To  my  amazement,  the  first  person  I  saw  was 
a  woman  of  about  thirty-five,  in  pearl-gray  Quaker 
dress — one  of  your  quiet,  good-looking  people. 
She  was  seated  on  a  stool  beside  a  straw  mattress 
upon  which  lay  a  black  woman.  There  were  three 
others  crowded  close  around  a  small  stove,  which 
was  red-hot — an  unusual  spectacle  in  this  street. 
Altogether  a  most  nasty  den. 

As  I  came  in,  the  little  Quaker  woman  got  up 
and  said :  "  I  took  the  liberty  of  sending  for  thee  to 
look  at  this  poor  woman.  I  am  afraid  she  has  the 
smallpox.  Will  thee  be  so  kind  as  to  look  at  her?  " 
And  with  this  she  held  down  the  candle  toward  the 
bed. 

"  Good  gracious!  "  I  said  hastily,  seeing  how  the 
creature  was  speckled,  "  I  did  n't  understand  this, 
or  I  would  not  have  come.  I  have  important  cases 
which  I  cannot  subject  to  the  risk  of  contagion. 
Best  let  her  alone,  miss,"  I  added,  "  or  send  her  to 
the  smallpox  hospital." 

Upon  my  word,  I  was  astonished  at  the  little 
woman's  indignation.  She  said  just  those  things 
which  make  you  feel  as  if  somebody  had  been  call- 
ing you  names  or  kicking  you — Was  I  really  a  doc- 
tor? and  so  on.  It  did  not  gain  by  being  put  in 
the  ungrammatical  tongue  of  Quakers.  However, 
I  never  did  fancy  smallpox,  and  what  could  a  fel- 


THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A   QUACK         19 

low  get  by  doctoring  wretches  like  these?  So  I 
held  my  tongue  and  went  away.  About  a  week 
afterwards  I  met  Evans,  the  dispensary  man,  a  very 
common  fellow,  who  was  said  to  be  frank. 

"  Helloa!  "  says  he.  "  Doctor,  you  made  a  nice 
mistake  about  that  darky  at  No.  709  Bedford  Street 
the  other  night.  She  had  nothing  but  measles,  after 
all." 

"  Of  course  I  knew,"  said  I,  laughing;  "but  you 
don't  think  I  was  going  in  for  dispensary  trash,  do 
you?  " 

"  I  should  think  not,"  said  Evans. 

I  learned  afterwards  that  this  Miss  Barker  had 
taken  an  absurd  fancy  to  the  man  because  he  had 
doctored  the  darky  and  would  not  let  the  Quakeress 
pay  him.  The  end  was,  when  I  wanted  to  get  a 
vacancy  in  the  Southwark  Dispensary,  where  they 
do  pay  the  doctors,  Miss  Barker  was  malignant 
enough  to  take  advantage  of  my  oversight  by  tell- 
ing the  whole  story  to  the  board ;  so  that  Evans  got 
in,  and  I  was  beaten. 

You  may  be  pretty  sure  that  I  found  rather  slow 
the  kind  of  practice  I  have  described,  and  began  to 
look  about  for  chances  of  bettering  myself.  In  this 
sort  of  locality  rather  risky  cases  turned  up  now  and 
then ;  and  as  soon  as  I  got  to  be  known  as  a  reli- 
able man,  I  began  to  get  the  peculiar  sort  of  prac- 
tice I  wanted.  Notwithstanding  all  my  efforts,  I 
found  myself,  at  the  close  of  three  years,  with  all 
my  means  spent,  and  just  able  to  live  meagerly 
from  hand  to  mouth,  which  by  no  means  suited  a 
man  of  my  refined  tastes. 


20       THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A   QUACK 

Once  or  twice  I  paid  a  visit  to  my  aunt,  and  was 
able  to  secure  moderate  aid  by  overhauling  her  con- 
cealed hoardings.  But  as  to  these  changes  of  prop- 
erty I  was  careful,  and  did  not  venture  to  secure  the 
large  amount  I  needed.  As  to  the  Bible,  it  was  at 
this  time  hidden,  and  I  judged  it,  therefore,  to  be 
her  chief  place  of  deposit.  Banks  she  utterly  dis- 
trusted. 

Six  months  went  by,  and  I  was  worse  off  than 
ever — two  months  in  arrears  of  rent,  and  numerous 
other  debts  to  cigar-shops  and  liquor-dealers.  Now 
and  then  some  good  job,  such  as  a  burglar  with  a 
cut  head,  helped  me  for  a  while ;  but,  on  the  whole, 
I  was  like  Slider  Downeyhylle  in  Neal's  "  Charcoal 
Sketches,"  and  kept  going  "downer  and  downer" 
the  more  I  tried  not  to.  Something  had  to  be  done. 

It  occurred  to  me,  about  this  time,  that  if  I  moved 
into  a  more  genteel  locality  I  might  get  a  better 
class  of  patients,  and  yet  keep  the  best  of  those  I 
now  had.  To  do  this  it  was  necessary  to  pay  my 
rent,  and  the  more  so  because  I  was  in  a  fair  way  to 
have  no  house  at  all  over  my  head.  But  here  for- 
tune interposed.  I  was  caught  in  a  heavy  rain-storm 
on  Seventh  Street,  and  ran  to  catch  an  omnibus. 
As  I  pulled  open  the  door  I  saw  behind  me  the 
Quaker  woman,  Miss  Barker.  I  laughed  and 
jumped  in.  She  had  to  run  a  little  before  the  'bus 
again  stopped.  She  got  pretty  wet.  An  old  man 
in  the  corner,  who  seemed  in  the  way  of  taking 
charge  of  other  people's  manners,  said  to  me: 
"  Young  man,  you  ought  to  be  ashamed  to  get  in 
before  the  lady,  and  in  this  pour,  too!" 


THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A   QUACK         21 

I  said  calmly,  "  But  you  got  in  before  her." 

He  made  no  reply  to  this  obvious  fact,  as  he 
might  have  been  in  the  'bus  a  half-hour.  A  large, 
well-dressed  man  near  by  said,  with  a  laugh,  "Rather 
neat,  that,"  and,  turning,  tried  to  pull  up  a  window- 
sash.  In  the  effort  something  happened,  and  he 
broke  the  glass,  cutting  his  hand  in  half  a  dozen 
places.  While  he  was  using  several  quite  profane 
phrases,  I  caught  his  hand  and  said,  "  I  am  a  sur- 
geon," and  tied  my  handkerchief  around  the  bleed- 
ing palm. 

The  guardian  of  manners  said,  "  I  hope  you  are 
not  much  hurt,  but  there  was  no  reason  why  you 
should  swear." 

On  this  my  patient  said,  "  Go  to  ,"  which 

silenced  the  monitor. 

I  explained  to  the  wounded  man  that  the  cuts 
should  be  looked  after  at  once.  The  matter  was 
arranged  by  our  leaving  the  'bus,  and,  as  the  rain 
had  let  up,  walking  to  his  house.  This  was  a  large 
and  quite  luxurious  dwelling  on  Fourth  Street. 
There  I  cared  for  his  wounds,  which,  as  I  had  in- 
formed him,  required  immediate  attention.  It  was 
at  this  time  summer,  and  his  wife  and  niece,  the 
only  other  members  of  his  family,  were  absent.  On 
my  second  visit  I  made  believe  to  remove  some 
splinters  of  glass  which  I  brought  with  me.  He 
said  they  showed  how  shamefully  thin  was  that 
omnibus  window-pane.  To  my  surprise,  my  patient, 
at  the  end  of  the  month, — for  one  wound  was  long 
in  healing, — presented  me  with  one  hundred  dollars. 
This  paid  my  small  rental,  and  as  Mr.  Poynter 


22         THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A  QUACK 

allowed  me  to  refer  to  him,  I  was  able  to  get  a 
better  office  and  bedroom  on  Spruce  Street.  I  saw 
no  more  of  my  patient  until  winter,  although  I 
learned  that  he  was  a  stock-broker,  not  in  the  very 
best  repute,  but  of  a  well-known  family. 

Meanwhile  my  move  had  been  of  small  use.  I 
was  wise  enough,  however,  to  keep  up  my  connec- 
tion with  my  former  clients,  and  contrived  to  live. 
It  was  no  more  than  that.  One  day  in  December  I 
was  overjoyed  to  see  Mr.  Poynter  enter.  He  was  a 
fat  man,  very  pale,  and  never,  to  my  remembrance, 
without  a  permanent  smile.  He  had  very  civil 
ways,  and  now  at  once  I  saw  that  he  wanted  some- 
thing. 

I  hated  the  way  that  man  saw  through  me.  He 
went  on  without  hesitation,  taking  me  for  granted. 
He  began  by  saying  he  had  confidence  in  my  judg- 
ment, and  when  a  man  says  that  you  had  better 
look  out.  He  said  he  had  a  niece  who  lived  with 
him,  a  brother's  child ;  that  she  was  out  of  health 
and  ought  not  to  marry,  which  was  what  she  meant 
to  do.  She  was  scared  about  her  health,  because 
she  had  a  cough,  and  had  lost  a  brother  of  consump- 
tion. I  soon  came  to  understand  that,  for  reasons 
unknown  to  me,  my  friend  did  not  wish  his  niece  to 
marry.  His  wife,  he  also  informed  me,  was  troubled 
as  to  the  niece's  health.  Now,  he  said,  he  wished 
to  consult  me  as  to  what  he  should  do.  I  suspected 
at  once  that  he  had  not  told  me  all. 

I  have  often  wondered  at  the  skill  with  which  I 
managed  this  rather  delicate  matter.  I  knew  I  was 
not  well  enough  known  to  be  of  direct  use,  and  was 


THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A   QUACK         23 

also  too  young  to  have  much  weight.  I  advised 
him  to  get  Professor  L. 

Then  my  friend  shook  his  head.  He  said  in  reply, 
"  But  suppose,  doctor,  he  says  there  is  nothing 
wrong  with  the  girl  ?  " 

Then  I  began  to  understand  him. 

"  Oh,"  I  said,  "  you  get  a  confidential  written 
opinion  from  him.  You  can  make  it  what  you 
please  when  you  tell  her." 

He  said  no.  It  would  be  best  for  me  to  ask  the 
professor  to  see  Miss  Poynter;  might  mention  my 
youth,  and  so  on,  as  a  reason.  I  was  to  get  his 
opinion  in  writing. 

"Well?"  said  I. 

"  After  that  I  want  you  to  write  me  a  joint  opin- 
ion to  meet  the  case — all  the  needs  of  the  case,  you 
see." 

I  saw,  but  hesitated  as  to  how  much  would  make 
it  worth  while  to  pull  his  hot  chestnuts  out  of  the 
fire — one  never  knows  how  hot  the  chestnuts  are. 

Then  he  said,  "  Ever  take  a  chance  in  stocks?  " 

I  said,  "  No." 

He  said  that  he  would  lend  me  a  little  money  and 
see  what  he  could  do  with  it.  And  here  was  his 
receipt  from  me  for  one  thousand  dollars,  and  here, 
too,  was  my  order  to  buy  shares  of  P.  T.  Y.  Would 
I  please  to  sign  it?  I  did. 

I  was  to  call  in  two  days  at  his  house,  and  mean- 
time I  could  think  it  over.  It  seemed  to  me  a 
pretty  weak  plan.  Suppose  the  young  woman — 
well,  supposing  is  awfully  destructive  of  enterprise ; 
and  as  for  me,  I  had  only  to  misunderstand  the 


24        THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF  A  QUACK 

professor's  opinion.  I  went  to  the  house,  and  talked 
to  Mr.  Poynter  about  his  gout.  Then  Mrs.  Poynter 
came  in,  and  began  to  lament  her  niece's  declining 
health.  After  that  I  saw  Miss  Poynter.  There  is 
a  kind  of  innocent-looking  woman  who  knows  no 
more  of  the  world  than  a  young  chicken,  and  is 
choke-full  of  emotions.  I  saw  it  would  be  easy  to 
frighten  her.  There  are  some  instruments  anybody 
can  get  any  tune  they  like  out  of.  I  was  very 
grave,  and  advised  her  to  see  the  professor.  And 
would  I  write  to  ask  him,  said  Mr.  Poynter.  I  said 
I  would. 

As  I  went  out  Mr.  Poynter  remarked  :  "  You  will 
clear  some  four  hundred  easy.  Write  to  the  pro- 
fessor. Bring  my  receipt  to  the  office  next  week, 
and  we  will  settle." 

We  settled.  I  tore  up  his  receipt  and  gave  him 
one  for  fifteen  hundred  dollars,  and  received  in 
notes  five  hundred  dollars. 

In  a  day  or  so  I  had  a  note  from  the  professor 
stating  that  Miss  Poynter  was  in  no  peril ;  that  she 
was,  as  he  thought,  worried,  and  had  only  a  mild 
bronchial  trouble.  He  advised  me  to  do  so-and-so, 
and  had  ventured  to  reassure  my  young  patient. 
Now,  this  was  a  little  more  than  I  wanted.  How- 
ever, I  wrote  Mr.  Poynter  that  the  professor  thought 
she  had  bronchitis,  that  in  her  case  tubercle  would 
be  very  apt  to  follow,  and  that  at  present,  and  until 
she  was  safe,  we  considered  marriage  undesirable. 

Mr.  Poynter  said  it  might  have  been  put  stronger, 
but  he  would  make  it  do.  He  made  it.  The  first 
effect  was  an  attack  of  hysterics.  The  final  result 


THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A   QUACK         2$ 

was  that  she  eloped  with  her  lover,  because  if  she 
was  to  die,  as  she  wrote  her  aunt,  she  wished  to  die 
in  her  husband's  arms.  Human  nature  plus  hysteria 
will  defy  all  knowledge  of  character.  This  was 
what  our  old  professor  of  practice  used  to  say. 

Mr.  Poynter  had  now  to  account  for  a  large  trust 
estate  which  had  somehow  dwindled.  Unhappily, 
princes  are  not  the  only  people  in  whom  you  must 
not  put  your  trust.  As  to  myself,  Professor  L. 
somehow  got  to  know  the  facts,  and  cut  me  dead. 
It  was  unpleasant,  but  I  had  my  five  hundred  dol- 
lars, and — I  needed  them.  I  do  not  see  how  I 
could  have  been  more  careful. 

After  this  things  got  worse.  Mr.  Poynter  broke, 
and  did  not  even  pay  my  last  bill.  I  had  to  accept 
several  rather  doubtful  cases,  and  once  a  policeman 
I  knew  advised  me  that  I  had  better  be  on  my 
guard. 

But,  really,  so  long  as  I  adhered  to  the  common 
code  of  my  profession  I  was  in  danger  of  going 
without  my  dinner. 

Just  as  I  was  at  my  worst  and  in  despair  some- 
thing always  turned  up,  but  it  was  sure  to  be  risky  ; 
and  now  my  aunt  refused  to  see  me,  and  Penin- 
nah  wrote  me  goody-goody  letters,  and  said  Aunt 
Rachel  had  been  unable  to  find  certain  bank-notes 
she  had  hidden,  and  vowed  I  had  taken  them.  This 
Peninnah  did  not  think  possible.  I  agreed  with  her. 
The  notes  were  found  somewhat  later  by  Peninnah 
in  the  toes  of  a  pair  of  my  aunt's  old  slippers.  Of 
course  I  wrote  an  indignant  letter.  My  aunt  de- 
clared that  Peninnah  had  stolen  the  notes,  and 


26         THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF  A  QUACK 

restored  them  when  they  were  missed.  Poor  Penin- 
nah!  This  did  not  seem  to  me  very  likely,  but 
Peninnah  did  love  fine  clothes. 

One  night,  as  I  was  debating  with  myself  as  to 
how  I  was  to  improve  my  position,  I  heard  a  knock 
on  my  shutter,  and,  going  to  the  door,  let  in  a 
broad-shouldered  man  with  a  whisky  face  and  a 
great  hooked  nose.  He  wore  a  heavy  black  beard 
and  mustache,  and  looked  like  the  wolf  in  the  pic- 
tures of  Red  Riding- hood  which  I  had  seen  as  a 
child. 

"  Your  name  's  Sandcraft  ?  "  said  the  man. 

"Yes;  that  's  my  name — Dr.  Sandcraft." 

As  he  sat  down  he  shook  the  snow  over  every- 
thing, and  said  coolly :  "  Set  down,  doc ;  I  want  to 
talk  with  you." 

"  What  can  I  do  for  you  ?  "  said  I. 

The  man  looked  around  the  room  rather  scorn- 
fully, at  the  same  time  throwing  back  his  coat  and 
displaying  a  red  neckerchief  and  a  huge  garnet  pin. 
"  Guess  you  're  not  overly  rich,"  he  said. 

"Not  especially,"  said  I.  "What  's  that  your 
business?  " 

He  did  not  answer,  but  merely  said,  "  Know 
Simon  Stagers?" 

"  Can't  say  I  do,"  said  I,  cautiously.  Simon  was 
a  burglar  who  had  blown  off  two  fingers  when  min- 
ing a  safe.  I  had  attended  him  while  he  was  hiding. 

"  Can't  say  you  do !  Well,  you  can  lie,  and  no 
mistake.  Come,  now,  doc.  Simon  says  you  're 
safe,  and  I  want  to  have  a  leetle  plain  talk  with 
you." 


THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A   QUACK         2/ 

With  this  he  laid  ten  gold  eagles  on  the  table.  I 
put  out  my  hand  instinctively. 

"  Let  'em  alone,"  cried  the  man,  sharply. 
"  They  're  easy  earned,  and  ten  more  like  'em." 

"  For  doing  what?  "  I  said. 

The  man  paused  a  moment,  and  looked  around 
him ;  next  he  stared  at  me,  and  loosened  his  cravat 
with  a  hasty  pull.  "  You  're  the  coroner,"  said  he. 

"  I !     What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Yes,  you  're  the  coroner ;  don't  you  under- 
stand ?  "  and  so  saying,  he  shoved  the  gold  pieces 
toward  me. 

"Very  good,"  said  I;  "we  will  suppose  I  'm  the 
coroner.  What  next?" 

"  And  being  the  coroner,"  said  he,  "  you  get  this 
note,  which  requests  you  to  call  at  No.  9  Blank 
Street  to  examine  the  body  of  a  young  man 
who  is  supposed— only  supposed,  you  see — to  have 
— well,  to  have  died  under  suspicious  circum- 
stances." 

"  Go  on,"  said  I. 

"No,"  he  returned;  "not  till  I  know  how  you 
like  it.  Stagers  and  another  knows  it;  and  it 
would  n't  be  very  safe  for  you  to  split,  besides  not 
making  nothing  out  of  it.  But  what  I  say  is  this, 
Do  you  like  the  business  of  coroner?  " 

I  did  not  like  it;  but  just  then  two  hundred  in 
gold  was  life  to  me,  so  I  said :  "  Let  me  hear  the 
whole  of  it  first.  I  am  safe." 

"  That  's  square  enough,"  said  the  man.  "  My 
wife  's  got" — correcting  himself  with  a  shivery 
shrug — "  my  wife  had  a  brother  that  took  to  cutting 


28         THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A   QUACK 

up  rough  because  when  I  'd  been  up  too  late  I 
handled  her  a  leetle  hard  now  and  again. 

"  Luckily  he  fell  sick  with  typhoid  just  then — you 
see,  he  lived  with  us.  When  he  got  better  I  guessed 
he  'd  drop  all  that ;  but  somehow  he  was  worse  than 
ever — clean  off  his  head,  and  strong  as  an  ox.  My 
wife  said  to  put  him  away  in  an  asylum.  I  did  n't 
think  that  would  do.  At  last  he  tried  to  get  out. 
He  was  going  to  see  the  police  about — well — the 
thing  was  awful  serious,  and  my  wife  carrying  on 
like  mad,  and  wanting  doctors.  I  had  no  mind  to 
run,  and  something  had  got  to  be  done.  So  Simon 
Stagers  and  I  talked  it  over.  The  end  of  it  was,  he 
took  worse  of  a  sudden,  and  got  so  he  did  n't  know 
nothing.  Then  I  rushed  for  a  doctor.  He  said  it 
was  a  perforation,  and  there  ought  to  have  been  a 
doctor  when  he  was  first  took  sick. 

"  Well,  the  man  died,  and  as  I  kept  about  the 
house,  my  wife  had  no  chance  to  talk.  The  doctor 
fussed  a  bit,  but  at  last  he  gave  a  certificate.  I 
thought  we  were  done  with  it.  But  my  wife  she 
writes  a  note  and  gives  it  to  a  boy  in  the  alley  to 
put  in  the  post.  We  suspicioned  her,  and  Stagers 
was  on  the  watch.  After  the  boy  got  away  a  bit, 
Simon  bribed  him  with  a  quarter  to  give  him  the 
note,  which  was  n't  no  less  than  a  request  to  the 
coroner  to  come  to  the  house  to-morrow  and  make 
an  examination,  as  foul  play  was  suspected — and 
poison." 

When  the  man  quit  talking  he  glared  at  me.  I 
sat  still.  I  was  cold  all  over.  I  was  afraid  to  go 
on,  and  afraid  to  go  back,  besides  which,  I  did  not 


THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A   QUACK         29 

doubt  that  there  was  a  good  deal  of  money  in  the 
case. 

"  Of  course,"  said  I,  "  it 's  nonsense;  only  I  sup- 
pose you  don't  want  the  officers  about,  and  a  fuss, 
and  that  sort  of  thing." 

"  Exactly,"  said  my  friend.  "  It 's  all  bosh  about 
poison.  You  're  the  coroner.  You  take  this  note 
and  come  to  my  house.  Says  you :  '  Mrs.  File,  are 
you  the  woman  that  wrote  this  note  ?  Because  in 
that  case  I  must  examine  the  body.'  " 

"  I  see,"  said  I ;  "  she  need  n't  know  who  I  am, 
or  anything  else ;  but  if  I  tell  her  it  's  all  right,  do 
you  think  she  won't  want  to  know  why  there  is  n't 
a  jury,  and  so  on?" 

"  Bless  you,"  said  the  man,  "  the  girl  is  n't  over 
seventeen,  and  does  n't  know  no  more  than  a  baby. 
As  we  live  up-town  miles  away,  she  won't  know 
anything  about  you." 

"  I  '11  do  it,"  said  I,  suddenly,  for,  as  I  saw,  it 
involved  no  sort  of  risk ;  "  but  I  must  have  three 
hundred  dollars." 

"  And  fifty,"  added  the  wolf,  "  if  you  do  it  well." 

Then  I  knew  it  was  serious. 

With  this  the  man  buttoned  about  him  a  shaggy 
gray  overcoat,  and  took  his  leave  without  a  single 
word  in  addition. 

A  minute  later  he  came  back  and  said :  "  Stagers 
is  in  this  business,  and  I  was  to  remind  you  of  Lou 
Wilson, — I  forgot  that, — the  woman  that  died  last 
year.  That  's  all."  Then  he  went  away,  leaving 
me  in  a  cold  sweat.  I  knew  now  I  had  no  choice. 
I  understood  why  I  had  been  selected. 


30        THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A  QUACK 

For  the  first  time  in  my  life,  that  night  I  could  n't 
sleep.  I  thought  to  myself,  at  last,  that  I  would 
get  up  early,  pack  a  few  clothes,  and  escape,  leav- 
ing my  books  to  pay  as  they  might  my  arrears  of 
rent.  Looking  out  of  the  window,  however,  in  the 
morning,  I  saw  Stagers  prowling  about  the  opposite 
pavement;  and  as  the  only  exit  except  the  street 
door  was  an  alleyway  which  opened  alongside  of 
the  front  of  the  house,  I  gave  myself  up  for  lost. 
About  ten  o'clock  I  took  my  case  of  instruments 
and  started  for  File's  house,  followed,  as  I  too  well 
understood,  by  Stagers. 

I  knew  the  house,  which  was  in  a  small  up-town 
street,  by  its  closed  windows  and  the  craped  bell, 
which  I  shuddered  as  I  touched.  However,  it  was 
too  late  to  draw  back,  and  I  therefore  inquired  for 
Mrs.  File.  A  haggard-looking  young  woman  came 
down,  and  led  me  into  a  small  parlor,  for  whose 
darkened  light  I  was  thankful  enough. 

"  Did  you  write  this  note  ?  " 

"  I  did,"  said  the  woman,  "  if  you  're  the  coro- 
ner. Joe  File — he  's  my  husband — he  's  gone 
out  to  see  about  the  funeral.  I  wish  it  was  his, 
I  do." 

"  What  do  you  suspect  ?  "  said  I. 

"  I  '11  tell  you,"  she  returned  in  a  whisper.  "  I 
think  he  was  made  away  with.  I  think  there  was 
foul  play.  I  think  he  was  poisoned.  That 's  what 
I  think." 

"  I  hope  you  may  be  mistaken,"  said  I.  "  Sup- 
pose you  let  me  see  the  body." 

"  You  shall  see  it,"  she  replied ;    and  following 


THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A   QUACK         31 

her,  I  went  up-stairs  to  a  front  chamber,  where  I 
found  the  corpse. 

"  Get  it  over  soon,"  said  the  woman,  with  strange 
firmness.  "  If  there  ain't  no  murder  been  done  I 
shall  have  to  run  for  it ;  if  there  was  " — and  her  face 
set  hard — "  I  guess  I  '11  stay."  With  this  she  closed 
the  door  and  left  me  with  the  dead. 

If  I  had  known  what  was  before  me  I  never  could 
have  gone  into  the  thing  at  all.  It  looked  a  little 
better  when  I  had  opened  a  window  and  let  in  plenty 
of  light ;  for  although  I  was,  on  the  whole,  far  less 
afraid  of  dead  than  living  men,  I  had  an  absurd 
feeling  that  I  was  doing  this  dead  man  a  distinct 
wrong — as  if  it  mattered  to  the  dead,  after  all! 
When  the  affair  was  over,  I  thought  more  of  the 
possible  consequences  than  of  its  relation  to  the 
dead  man  himself;  but  do  as  I  would  at  the  time, 
I  was  in  a  ridiculous  funk,  and  especially  when 
going  through  the  forms  of  a  post-mortem  exami- 
nation. 

I  am  free  to  confess  now  that  I  was  careful  not 
to  uncover  the  man's  face,  and  that  when  it  was 
over  I  backed  to  the  door  and  hastily  escaped  from 
the  room.  On  the  stairs  opposite  to  me  Mrs.  File 
was  seated,  with  her  bonnet  on  and  a  bundle  in  her 
hand. 

"  Well,"  said  she,  rising  as  she  spoke,  and  with  a 
certain  eagerness  in  her  tone,  "  what  killed  him  ? 
Was  it  poison?  " 

"  Poison,  my  good  woman ! "  said  I.  "  When 
a  man  has  typhoid  fever  he  don't  need  poison  to 
kill  him.  He  had  a  relapse,  that  's  all." 


32         THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A   QUACK 

"  And  do  you  mean  to  say  he  was  n't  poisoned," 
said  she,  with  more  than  a  trace  of  disappointment 
in  her  voice — "  not  poisoned  at  all?  " 

"  No  more  than  you  are,"  said  I.  "  If  I  had 
found  any  signs  of  foul  play  I  should  have  had  a 
regular  inquest.  As  it  is,  the  less  said  about  it  the 
better.  The  fact  is,  it  would  have  been  much  wiser 
to  have  kept  quiet  at  the  beginning.  I  can't  under- 
stand why  you  should  have  troubled  me  about  it  at 
all.  The  man  had  a  perforation.  It  is  common 
enough  in  typhoid." 

"  That  's  what  the  doctor  said — I  did  n't  believe 
him.  I  guess  now  the  sooner  I  leave  the  better  for 
me." 

"  As  to  that,"  I  returned,  "  it  is  none  of  my  busi- 
ness ;  but  you  may  rest  certain  about  the  cause  of 
your  brother's  death." 

My  fears  were  somewhat  quieted  that  evening 
when  Stagers  and  the  wolf  appeared  with  the  re- 
mainder of  the  money,  and  I  learned  that  Mrs.  File 
had  fled  from  her  home  and,  as  File  thought  likely, 
from  the  city  also.  A  few  months  later  File  him- 
self disappeared,  and  Stagers  found  his  way  for  the 
third  time  into  the  penitentiary.  Then  I  felt  at 
ease.  I  now  see,  for  my  own  part,  that  I  was  guilty 
of  more  than  one  mistake,  and  that  I  displayed 
throughout  a  want  of  intelligence.  I  ought  to  have 
asked  more,  and  also  might  have  got  a  good  fee 
from  Mrs.  File  on  account  of  my  services  as  coroner. 
It  served  me,  however,  as  a  good  lesson ;  but  it  was 
several  months  before  I  felt  quite  comfortable. 

Meanwhile  money  became  scarce  once  more,  and 


THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF   A   QUACK         33 

I  was  driven  to  my  wit's  end  to  devise  how  I  should 
continue  to  live  as  I  had  done.  I  tried,  among  other 
plans,  that  of  keeping  certain  pills  and  other  medi- 
cines, which  I  sold  to  my  patients ;  but  on  the  whole 
I  found  it  better  to  send  all  my  prescriptions  to  one 
druggist,  who  charged  the  patient  ten  or  twenty 
cents  over  the  correct  price,  and  handed  this  amount 
to  me. 

In  some  cases  I  am  told  the  percentage  is  sup- 
posed to  be  a  donation  on  the  part  of  the  apothe- 
cary ;  but  I  rather  fancy  the  patient  pays  for  it  in 
the  end.  It  is  one  of  the  absurd  vagaries  of  the 
profession  to  discountenance  the  practice  I  have 
described,  but  I  wish,  for  my  part,  I  had  never 
done  anything  more  foolish  or  more  dangerous.  Of 
course  it  inclines  a  doctor  to  change  his  medicines 
a  good  deal,  and  to  order  them  in  large  quantities, 
which  is  occasionally  annoying  to  the  poor ;  yet,  as 
I  have  always  observed,  there  is  no  poverty  as 
painful  as  your  own,  so  that  I  prefer  to  distribute 
pecuniary  suffering  among  many  rather  than  to 
concentrate  it  on  myself.  That  's  a  rather  neat 
phrase. 

About  six  months  after  the  date  of  this  annoy- 
ing adventure,  an  incident  occurred  which  altered 
somewhat,  and  for  a  time  improved,  my  profes- 
sional position.  During  my  morning  office  hour 
an  old  woman  came  in,  and  putting  down  a  large 
basket,  wiped  her  face  with  a  yellow-cotton  hand- 
kerchief, and  afterwards  with  the  corner  of  her  apron. 
Then  she  looked  around  uneasily,  got  up,  settled 
her  basket  on  her  arm  with  a  jerk  which  may  have 


34        THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF  A  QUACK 

decided  the  future  of  an  egg  or  two,  and  remarked 
briskly :  "  Don't  see  no  little  bottles  about ;  got  the 
wrong  stall,  I  guess.  You  ain't  no  homeopath  doc- 
tor, are  you  ?  " 

With  great  presence  of  mind,  I  replied :  "  Well, 
ma'am,  that  depends  upon  what  you  want.  Some 
of  my  patients  like  one,  and  some  like  the  other/' 
I  was  about  to  add,  "  You  pay  your  money  and  you 
take  your  choice,"  but  thought  better  of  it,  and  held 
my  peace,  refraining  from  classical  quotation. 

"  Being  as  that  's  the  case,"  said  the  old  lady, 
"  I  '11  just  tell  you  my  symptoms.  You  said  you 
give  either  kind  of  medicine,  did  n't  you  ?  " 

"  Just  so,"  replied  I. 

"  Clams  or  oysters,  whichever  opens  most  lively, 
as  my  old  Joe  says — tends  the  oyster-stand  at  stall 
No.  9.  Happen  to  know  Joe?  " 

No,  I  did  not  know  Joe;  but  what  were  the 
symptoms  ? 

They  proved  to  be  numerous,  and  included  a 
stunning  in  the  head  and  a  misery  in  the  side,  with 
"  bokin'  "  after  victuals. 

I  proceeded,  of  course,  to  apply  a  stethoscope 
over  her  ample  bosom,  though  what  I  heard  on  this 
and  similar  occasions  I  should  find  it  rather  difficult 
to  state.  I  remember  well  my  astonishment  in  one 
instance  where,  having  unconsciously  applied  my 
instrument  over  a  clamorous  silver  watch  in  the 
watch-fob  of  a  sea-captain,  I  concluded  for  a  mo- 
ment that  he  was  suffering  from  a  rather  remark- 
able displacement  of  the  heart.  As  to  my  old  lady, 
whose  name  was  Checkers,  and  who  kept  an  apple- 


THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A   QUACK         35 

stand  near  by,  I  told  her  that  I  was  out  of  pills  just 
then,  but  would  have  plenty  next  day.  Accord- 
ingly, I  proceeded  to  invest  a  small  amount  at  a 
place  called  a  homeopathic  pharmacy,  which  I 
remember  amused  me  immensely. 

A  stout  little  German,  with  great  silver  spectacles, 
sat  behind  a  counter  containing  numerous  jars  of 
white  powders  labeled  concisely  "  Lac.,"  "  Led.," 
"  Onis.,"  "  Op.,"  "  Puls.,"  etc.,  while  behind  him 
were  shelves  filled  with  bottles  of  what  looked  like 
minute  white  shot. 

"  I  want  some  homeopathic  medicine,"  said  I. 

"Vat  kindt?"  said  my  friend.  "Vat  you  vants 
to  cure? " 

I  explained  at  random  that  I  wished  to  treat  dis- 
eases in  general. 

"  Veil,  ve  gifs  you  a  case,  mit  a  pook,"  and 
thereon  produced  a  large  box  containing  bottles  of 
small  pills  and  powders,  labeled  variously  with  the 
names  of  the  diseases,  so  that  all  you  required  was 
to  use  the  headache  or  colic  bottle  in  order  to  meet 
the  needs  of  those  particular  maladies. 

I  was  struck  at  first  with  the  exquisite  simplicity 
of  this  arrangement ;  but  before  purchasing,  I  hap- 
pened luckily  to  turn  over  the  leaves  of  a  book,  in 
two  volumes,  which  lay  on  the  counter ;  it  was  called 
"  Jahr's  Manual."  Opening  at  page  310,  vol.  i,  I  lit 
upon  "  Lachesis,"  which  proved  to  my  amazement 
to  be  snake-venom.  This  Mr.  Jahr  stated  to  be 
indicated  for  use  in  upward  of  a  hundred  symptoms. 
At  once  it  occurred  to  me  that  "  Lach."  was  the 
medicine  for  my  money,  and  that  it  was  quite  need- 


36        THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK 

less  to  waste  cash  on  the  box.  I  therefore  bought 
a  small  jar  of  "  Lach."  and  a  lot  of  little  pills,  and 
started  for  home. 

My  old  woman  proved  a  fast  friend ;  and  as  she 
sent  me  numerous  patients,  I  by  and  by  altered  my 
sign  to  "  Homeopathic  Physician  and  Surgeon," 
whatever  that  may  mean,  and  was  regarded  by  my 
medical  brothers  as  a  lost  sheep,  and  by  the  little- 
pill  doctors  as  one  who  had  seen  the  error  of  his 
ways. 

In  point  of  fact,  my  new  practice  had  decided 
advantages.  All  pills  looked  and  tasted  alike,  and 
the  same  might  be  said  of  the  powders,  so  that  I 
was  never  troubled  by  those  absurd  investigations 
into  the  nature  of  remedies  which  some  patients  are 
prone  to  make.  Of  course  I  desired  to  get  business, 
and  it  was  therefore  obviously  unwise  to  give  little 
pills  of  "  Lac.,"  or  "  Puls.,"  or  "  Sep.,"  when  a  man 
needed  a  dose  of  oil,  or  a  white-faced  girl  iron,  or 
the  like.  I  soon  made  the  useful  discovery  that  it 
was  only  necessary  to  prescribe  cod-liver  oil,  for 
instance,  as  a  diet,  in  order  to  make  use  of  it  where 
required.  When  a  man  got  impatient  over  an  an- 
cient ague,  I  usually  found,  too,  that  I  could  per- 
suade him  to  let  me  try  a  good  dose  of  quinine  ; 
while,  on  the  other  hand,  there  was  a  distinct  pecu- 
niary advantage  in  those  cases  of  the  shakes  which 
could  be  made  to  believe  that  it  "  was  best  not  to 
interfere  with  nature."  I  ought  to  add  that  this 
kind  of  faith  is  uncommon  among  folks  who  carry 
hods  or  build  walls. 

For  women  who  are  hysterical,  and  go  heart  and 


THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A   QUACK         37 

soul  into  the  business  of  being  sick,  I  have  found  the 
little  pills  a  most  charming  resort,  because  you  can- 
not carry  the  refinement  of  symptoms  beyond  what 
my  friend  Jahr  has  done  in  the  way  of  fitting  medi- 
cines to  them,  so  that  if  I  had  taken  seriously  to 
practising  this  double  form  of  therapeutics,  it  had, 
as  I  saw,  certain  conveniences. 

Another  year  went  by,  and  I  was  beginning  to 
prosper  in  my  new  mode  of  life.  My  medicines 
(being  chiefly  milk-sugar,  with  variations  as  to  the 
labels)  cost  next  to  nothing :  and  as  I  charged  pretty 
well  for  both  these  and  my  advice,  I  was  now  able 
to  start  a  gig. 

I  solemnly  believe  that  I  should  have  continued 
to  succeed  in  the  practice  of  my  profession  if  it  had 
not  happened  that  fate  was  once  more  unkind  to  me, 
by  throwing  in  my  path  one  of  my  old  acquain- 
tances. I  had  a  consultation  one  day  with  the 
famous  homeopath  Dr.  Zwanzig.  As  we  walked 
away  we  were  busily  discussing  the  case  of  a  poor 
consumptive  fellow  who  previously  had  lost  a  leg. 
In  consequence  of  this  defect,  Dr.  Zwanzig  consid- 
ered that  the  ten-thousandth  of  a  grain  of  aurum 
would  be  an  overdose,  and  that  it  must  be  fractioned 
so  as  to  allow  for  the  departed  leg,  otherwise  the 
rest  of  the  man  would  be  getting  a  leg-dose  too 
much.  I  was  particularly  struck  with  this  view  of 
the  case,  but  I  was  still  more,  and  less  pleasingly, 
impressed  at  the  sight  of  my  former  patient  Stagers, 
who  nodded  to  me  familiarly  from  the  opposite 
pavement. 

I  was  not  at  all  surprised  when,  that  evening 


38        THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF  A  QUACK 

quite  late,  I  found  this  worthy  waiting  in  my  office. 
I  looked  around  uneasily,  which  was  clearly  under- 
stood by  my  friend,  who  retorted:  "Ain't  took 
nothin'  of  yours,  doc.  You  don't  seem  right 
awful  glad  to  see  me.  You  need  n't  be  afraid 
— I  've  only  fetched  you  a  job,  and  a  right  good 
one,  too." 

I  replied  that  I  had  my  regular  business,  that  I 
preferred  he  should  get  some  one  else,  and  pretty 
generally  made  Mr.  Stagers  aware  that  I  had  had 
enough  of  him.  I  did  not  ask  him  to  sit  down, 
and,  just  as  I  supposed  him  about  to  leave,  he 
seated  himself  with  a  grin,  remarking,  "  No  use, 
doc;  got  to  go  into  it  this  one  time." 

At  this  I,  naturally  enough,  grew  angry  and  used 
several  rather  violent  phrases. 

"  No  use,  doc,"  said  Stagers. 

Then  I  softened  down,  and  laughed  a  little,  and 
treated  the  thing  as  a  joke,  whatever  it  was,  for  I 
dreaded  to  hear. 

But  Stagers  was  fate.  Stagers  was  inevitable. 
"  Won't  do,  doc — not  even  money  would  n't  get 
you  off." 

"No?"  said  I,  interrogatively,  and  as  coolly  as  I 
could,  contriving  at  the  same  time  to  move  toward 
the  window.  It  was  summer,  the  sashes  were  up, 
the  shutters  half  drawn  in,  and  a  policeman  whom 
I  knew  was  lounging  opposite,  as  I  had  noticed 
when  I  entered.  I  would  give  Stagers  a  scare, 
charge  him  with  theft — anything  but  get  mixed  up 
with  his  kind  again.  It  was  the  folly  of  a  moment, 
and  I  should  have  paid  dear  for  it. 


THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF   A   QUACK         39 

He  must  have  understood  me,  the  scoundrel,  for 
in  an  instant  I  felt  a  cold  ring  of  steel  against  my 
ear,  and  a  tiger  clutch  on  my  cravat.  "  Sit  down," 
he  said.  "  What  a  fool  you  are !  Guess  you  forgot 
that  there  coroner's  business  and  the  rest."  Need- 
less to  say  that  I  obeyed.  "  Best  not  try  that 
again,"  continued  my  guest.  "  Wait  a  moment "  ; 
and  rising,  he  closed  the  window. 

There  was  no  resource  left  but  to  listen ;  and  what 
followed  I  shall  condense  rather  than  relate  it  in  the 
language  employed  by  Mr.  Stagers. 

It  appeared  that  my  other  acquaintance  Mr.  File 
had  been  guilty  of  a  cold-blooded  and  long-pre- 
meditated murder,  for  which  he  had  been  tried  and 
convicted.  He  now  lay  in  jail  awaiting  his  execu- 
tion, which  was  to  take  place  at  Carsonville,  Ohio. 
It  seemed  that  with  Stagers  and  others  he  had 
formed  a  band  of  expert  counterfeiters  in  the  West. 
Their  business  lay  in  the  manufacture  of  South 
American  currencies.  File  had  thus  acquired  a  for- 
tune so  considerable  that  I  was  amazed  at  his  hav- 
ing allowed  his  passion  to  seduce  him  into  unprofit- 
able crime.  In  his  agony  he  unfortunately  thought 
of  me,  and  had  bribed  Stagers  largely  in  order  that 
he  might  be  induced  to  find  me.  When  the  narra- 
tion had  reached  this  stage,  and  I  had  been  made 
fully  to  understand  that  I  was  now  and  hereafter 
under  the  sharp  eye  of  Stagers  and  his  friends,  that, 
in  a  word,  escape  was  out  of  the  question,  I  turned 
on  my  tormentor. 

"What  does  all  this  mean?"  I  said.  "What 
does  File  expect  me  to  do?" 


40         THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A   QUACK 

"  Don't  believe  he  exactly  knows,"  said  Stagers. 
"  Something  or  other  to  get  him  clear  of  hemp." 

"But  what  stuff!"  I  replied.  "  How  can  I  help 
him?  What  possible  influence  could  I  exert?" 

"  Can't  say,"  answered  Stagers,  imperturbably. 
"  File  has  a  notion  you  're  'most  cunning  enough 
for  anything.  Best  try  something,  doc." 

"And  what  if  I  won't  do  it?"  said  I.  "What 
does  it  matter  to  me  if  the  rascal  swings  or  no?  " 

"  Keep  cool,  doc,"  returned  Stagers.  "  I  'm  only 
agent  in  this  here  business.  My  principal,  that  's 
File,  he  says :  '  Tell  Sandcraft  to  find  some  way  to 
get  me  clear.  Once  out,  I  give  him  ten  thousand 
dollars.  If  he  don't  turn  up  something  that  will 
suit,  I  '11  blow  about  that  coroner  business  and  Lou 
Wilson,  and  break  him  up  generally.'  " 

"  You  don't  mean,"  said  I,  in  a  cold  sweat — "  you 
don't  mean  that,  if  I  can't  do  this  impossible  thing, 
he  will  inform  on  me?" 

"  Just  so,"  returned  Stagers.    "  Got  a  cigar,  doc  ?" 

I  only  half  heard  him.  What  a  frightful  position ! 
I  had  been  leading  a  happy  and  an  increasingly 
profitable  life — no  scrapes  and  no  dangers ;  and  here, 
on  a  sudden,  I  had  presented  to  me  the  alternative 
of  saving  a  wretch  from  the  gallows  or  of  spending 
unlimited  years  in  a  State  penitentiary.  As  for  the 
money,  it  became  as  dead  leaves  for  this  once  only 
in  my  life.  My  brain  seemed  to  be  spinning  round. 
I  grew  weak  all  over. 

"  Cheer  up  a  little,"  said  Stagers.  "  Take  a  nip 
of  whisky.  Things  ain't  at  the  worst,  by  a  good 
bit.  You  just  get  ready,  and  we  '11  start  by  the 


rSIT  DOWN,'    HE   SAID.    'WHAT  A   FOOL  YOU   ARE  !  '  " 


THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF  A  QUACK        41 

morning  train.  Guess  you  '11  try  out  something 
smart  enough  as  we  travel  along.  Ain't  got  a  heap 
of  time  to  lose." 

I  was  silent.  A  great  anguish  had  me  in  its  grip. 
I  might  squirm  as  I  would,  it  was  all  in  vain. 
Hideous  plans  rose  to  my  mind,  born  of  this  agony 
of  terror.  I  might  murder  Stagers,  but  what  good 
would  that  do?  As  to  File,  he  was  safe  from  my 
hand.  At  last  I  became  too  confused  to  think  any 
longer.  "  When  do  we  leave  ?  "  I  said  feebly. 

"  At  six  to-morrow,"  he  returned. 

How  I  was  watched  and  guarded,  and  how  hurried 
over  a  thousand  miles  of  rail  to  my  fate,  little  con- 
cerns us  now.  I  find  it  dreadful  to  recall  it  to 
memory.  Above  all,  an  aching  eagerness  for  re- 
venge upon  the  man  who  had  caused  me  these 
sufferings  was  uppermost  in  my  mind.  Could  I  not 
fool  the  wretch  and  save  myself?  Of  a  sudden  an 
idea  came  into  my  consciousness.  Then  it  grew 
and  formed  itself,  became  possible,  probable,  seemed 
to  me  sure.  "  Ah,"  said  I,  "  Stagers,  give  me 
something  to  eat  and  drink."  I  had  not  tasted 
food  for  two  days. 

Within  a  day  or  two  after  my  arrival,  I  was 
enabled  to  see  File  in  his  cell,  on  the  plea  of  being 
a  clergyman  from  his  native  place. 

I  found  that  I  had  not  miscalculated  my  danger. 
The  man  did  not  appear  to  have  the  least  idea  as 
to  how  I  was  to  help  him.  He  only  knew  that  I 
was  in  his  power,  and  he  used  his  control  to  insure 
that  something  more  potent  than  friendship  should 
be  enlisted  in  his  behalf.  As  the  days  went  by,  his 


42         THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF  A   QUACK 

behavior  grew  to  be  a  frightful  thing  to  witness. 
He  threatened,  flattered,  implored,  offered  to  double 
the  sum  he  had  promised  if  I  would  save  him.  My 
really  reasonable  first  thought  was  to  see  the  gov- 
ernor of  the  State,  and,  as  File's  former  physi- 
cian, make  oath  to  his  having  had  many  attacks  of 
epilepsy  followed  by  brief  periods  of  homicidal 
mania.  He  had,  in  fact,  had  fits  of  alcoholic  epi- 
lepsy. Unluckily,  the  governor  was  in  a  distant 
city.  The  time  was  short,  and  the  case  against  my 
man  too  clear.  Stagers  said  it  would  not  do.  I 
was  at  my  wit's  end.  "  Got  to  do  something," 
said  File,  "  or  I  '11  attend  to  your  case,  doc." 

"  But,"  said  I,  "  suppose  there  is  really  nothing?  " 

"  Well,"  said  Stagers  to  me  when  we  were  alone, 
"  you  get  him  satisfied,  anyhow.  He  '11  never  let 
them  hang  him,  and  perhaps — well,  I  'm  going  to 
give  him  these  pills  when  I  get  a  chance.  He  asked 
to  have  them.  But  what  's  your  other  plan?  " 

Stagers  knew  as  much  about  medicine  as  a  pig 
knows  about  the  opera.  So  I  set  to  work  to  delude 
him,  first  asking  if  he  could  secure  me,  as  a  clergy- 
man, an  hour  alone  with  File  just  before  the  execu- 
tion. He  said  money  would  do  it,  and  what  v/as 
my  plan? 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  there  was  once  a  man  named 
Dr.  Chovet.  He  lived  in  London.  A  gentleman 
who  turned  highwayman  was  to  be  hanged.  You 
see,"  said  I,  "this  was  about  1760.  Well,  his 
friends  bribed  the  jailer  and  the  hangman.  The 
doctor  cut  a  hole  in  the  man's  windpipe,  very  low 
down  where  it  could  be  partly  hid  by  a  loose  cravat. 


THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A   QUACK         43 

So,  as  they  hanged  him  only  a  little  while,  and  the 
breath  went  in  and  out  of  the  opening  below  the 
noose,  he  was  only  just  insensible  when  his  friends 
got  him — " 

"  And  he  got  well,"  cried  Stagers,  much  pleased 
with  my  rather  melodramatic  tale. 

"  Yes,"  I  said,  "  he  got  well,  and  lived  to  take 
purses,  all  dressed  in  white.  People  had  known 
him  well,  and  when  he  robbed  his  great-aunt,  who 
was  not  in  the  secret,  she  swore  she  had  seen  his 
ghost." 

Stagers  said  that  was  a  fine  story;  guessed  it 
would  work;  small  town,  new  business,  lots  of 
money  to  use.  In  fact,  the  attempt  thus  to  save  a 
man  is  said  to  have  been  made,  but,  by  ill  luck,  the 
man  did  not  recover.  It  answered  my  purpose,  but 
how  any  one,  even  such  an  ass  as  this  fellow,  could 
believe  it  could  succeed  puzzles  me  to  this  day. 

File  became  enthusiastic  over  my  scheme,  and  I 
cordially  assisted  his  credulity.  The  thing  was  to 
keep  the  wretch  quiet  until  the  business  blew  up  or 
— and  I  shuddered — until  File,  in  despair,  took  his 
pill.  I  should  in  any  case  find  it  wise  to  leave  in 
haste. 

My  friend  Stagers  had  some  absurd  misgivings 
lest  Mr.  File's  neck  might  be  broken  by  the  fall; 
but  as  to  this  I  was  able  to  reassure  him  upon  the 
best  scientific  authority.  There  were  certain  other 
and  minor  questions,  as  to  the  effect  of  sudden, 
nearly  complete  arrest  of  the  supply  of  blood  to  the 
brain;  but  with  these  physiological  refinements  I 
thought  it  needlessly  cruel  to  distract  a  man  in 


44         THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A   QUACK 

File's  peculiar  position.  Perhaps  I  shall  be  doing 
injustice  to  my  own  intellect  if  I  do  not  hasten  to 
state  again  that  I  had  not  the  remotest  belief  in  the 
efficacy  of  my  plan  for  any  purpose  except  to  get 
me  out  of  a  very  uncomfortable  position  and  give 
me,  with  time,  a  chance  to  escape. 

Stagers  and  I  were  both  disguised  as  clergymen, 
and  were  quite  freely  admitted  to  the  condemned 
man's  cell.  In  fact,  there  was  in  the  little  town  a 
certain  trustful  simplicity  about  all  their  arrange- 
ments. The  day  but  one  before  the  execution 
Stagers  informed  me  that  File  had  the  pills,  which 
he,  Stagers,  had  contrived  to  give  him.  Stagers 
seemed  pleased  with  our  plan.  I  was  not.  He  was 
really  getting  uneasy  and  suspicious  of  me — as  I 
was  soon  to  find  out. 

So  far  our  plans,  or  rather  mine,  had  worked  to  a 
marvel.  Certain  of  File's  old  accomplices  suc- 
ceeded in  bribing  the  hangman  to  shorten  the  time 
of  suspension.  Arrangements  were  made  to  secure 
me  two  hours  alone  with  the  prisoner,  so  that 
nothing  seemed  to  be  wanting  to  this  tomfool  busi- 
ness. I  had  assured  Stagers  that  I  would  not  need 
to  see  File  again  previous  to  the  operation ;  but  in 
the  forenoon  of  the  day  before  that  set  for  the 
execution  I  was  seized  with  a  feverish  impatience, 
which  luckily  prompted  me  to  visit  him  once  more. 
As  usual,  I  was  admitted  readily,  and  nearly  reached 
his  cell  when  I  became  aware,  from  the  sound  of 
voices  heard  through  the  grating  in  the  door,  that 
there  was  a  visitor  in  the  cell. 

"  Who  is  with  him?"  I  inquired  of  the  turnkey. 


THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A   QUACK         45 

"  The  doctor,"  he  replied. 

"  Doctor?  "  I  said,  pausing.     "  What  doctor?  " 

"  Oh,  the  jail  doctor.  I  was  to  come  back  in 
half  an  hour  to  let  him  out ;  but  he  's  got  a  quarter 
to  stay.  Shall  I  let  you  in,  or  will  you  wait?  " 

"  No,"  I  replied;  "  it  is  hardly  right  to  interrupt 
them.  I  will  walk  in  the  corridor  for  ten  minutes 
or  so,  and  then  you  can  come  back  to  let  me  into 
the  cell." 

"  Very  good,"  he  returned,  and  left  me. 

As  soon  as  I  was  alone,  I  cautiously  advanced 
until  I  stood  alongside  of  the  door,  through  the 
barred  grating  of  which  I  was  able  readily  to  hear 
what  went  on  within.  The  first  words  I  caught 
were  these : 

"  And  you  tell  me,  doctor,  that,  even  if  a  man's 
windpipe  was  open,  the  hanging  would  kill  him — 
are  you  sure?" 

"  Yes,  I  believe  there  would  be  no  doubt  of  it. 
I  cannot  see  how  escape  would  be  possible.  But 
let  me  ask  you  why  you  have  sent  for  me  to  ask 
these  singular  questions.  You  cannot  have  the 
faintest  hope  of  escape,  and  least  of  all  in  such  a 
manner  as  this.  I  advise  you  to  think  about  the 
fate  which  is  inevitable.  You  must,  I  fear,  have 
much  to  reflect  upon." 

"  But,"  said  File,  "  if  I  wanted  to  try  this  plan  of 
mine,  could  n't  some  one  be  found  to  help  me,  say 
if  he  was  to  make  twenty  thousand  or  so  by  it?  I 
mean  a  really  good  doctor."  Evidently  File  cruelly 
mistrusted  my  skill,  and  meant  to  get  some  one  to 
aid  me. 


46        THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A  QUACK 

"  If  you  mean  me,"  answered  the  doctor,  "  some 
one  cannot  be  found,  neither  for  twenty  nor  fifty 
thousand  dollars.  Besides,  if  any  one  were  wicked 
enough  to  venture  on  such  an  attempt,  he  would 
only  be  deceiving  you  with  a  hope  which  would  be 
utterly  vain.  You  must  be  off  your  head." 

I  understood  all  this  with  an  increasing  fear  in 
my  mind.  I  had  meant  to  get  away  that  night  at 
all  risks.  I  saw  now  that  I  must  go  at  once. 

After  a  pause  he  said :  "  Well,  doctor,  you  know 
a  poor  devil  in  my  fix  will  clutch  at  straws.  Hope 
I  have  not  offended  you." 

"  Not  in  the  least,"  returned  the  doctor.  "  Shall 
I  send  you  Mr.  Smith?"  This  was  my  present 
name;  in  fact,  I  was  known  as  the  Rev.  Eliphalet 
Smith. 

"  I  would  like  it,"  answered  File  ;  "  but  as  you  go 
out,  tell  the  warden  I  want  to  see  him  immediately 
about  a  matter  of  great  importance." 

At  this  stage  I  began  to  apprehend  very  distinctly 
that  the  time  had  arrived  when  it  would  be  wiser 
for  me  to  delay  escape  no  longer.  Accordingly,  I 
waited  until  I  heard  the  doctor  rise,  and  at  once 
stepped  quietly  away  to  the  far  end  of  the  corridor. 
I  had  scarcely  reached  it  when  the  door  which 
closed  it  was  opened  by  a  turnkey  who  had  come 
to  relieve  the  doctor  and  let  me  into  the  cell.  Of 
course  my  peril  was  imminent.  If  the  turnkey 
mentioned  my  near  presence  to  the  prisoner,  im- 
mediate disclosure  would  follow.  If  some  lapse 
of  time  were  secured  before  the  warden  obeyed  the 
request  from  File  that  he  should  visit  him,  I  might 


THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A   QUACK        47 

gain  thus  a  much-needed  hour,  but  hardly  more. 
I  therefore  said  to  the  officer :  "  Tell  the  warden 
that  the  doctor  wishes  to  remain  an  hour  longer 
with  the  prisoner,  and  that  I  shall  return  myself  at 
the  end  of  that  time." 

"  Very  good,  sir,"  said  the  turnkey,  allowing  me 
to  pass  out,  and,  as  he  followed  me,  relocking  the 
door  of  the  corridor.  "  I  '11  tell  him,"  he  said.  It 
is  needless  to  repeat  that  I  never  had  the  least  idea 
of  carrying  out  the  ridiculous  scheme  with  which  I 
had  deluded  File  and  Stagers,  but  so  far  Stagers's 
watchfulness  had  given  me  no  chance  to  escape. 

In  a  few  moments  I  was  outside  of  the  jail  gate, 
and  saw  my  fellow-clergyman,  Mr.  Stagers,  in  full 
broadcloth  and  white  tie,  coming  down  the  street 
toward  me.  As  usual,  he  was  on  his  guard;  but 
this  time  he  had  to  deal  with  a  man  grown  perfectly 
desperate,  with  everything  to  win  and  nothing  to 
lose.  My  plans  were  made,  and,  wild  as  they 
were,  I  thought  them  worth  the  trying.  I  must 
evade  this  man's  terrible  watch.  How  keen  it  was, 
you  cannot  imagine ;  but  it  was  aided  by  three  of 
the  infamous  gang  to  which  File  had  belonged,  for 
without  these  spies  no  one  person  could  possibly 
have  sustained  so  perfect  a  system. 

I  took  Stagers's  arm.  "  What  time,"  said  I, 
"  does  the  first  train  start  for  Dayton?  " 

"  At  twelve.     What  do  you  want  ?  " 

"  How  far  is  it?  " 

"  About  fifteen  miles,"  he  replied. 

"  Good.  I  can  get  back  by  eight  o'clock  to- 
night." 


48        THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A  QUACK 

"  Easily,"  said  Stagers,  "  if  you  go.  What  do 
you  want?" 

"  I  want  a  smaller  tube  to  put  in  the  windpipe — 
must  have  it,  in  fact." 

"  Well,  I  don't  like  it,"  said  he,  "  but  the  thing  's 
got  to  go  through  somehow.  If  you  must  go,  I 
will  go  along  myself.  Can't  lose  sight  of  you,  doc, 
just  at  present.  You  're  monstrous  precious.  Did 
you  tell  File? " 

"  Yes,"  said  I ;  "he  's  all  right.  Come.  We  've 
no  time  to  lose." 

Nor  had  we.  Within  twenty  minutes  we  were 
seated  in  the  last  car  of  a  long  train,  and  running 
at  the  rate  of  twenty  miles  an  hour  toward  Dayton. 
In  about  ten  minutes  I  asked  Stagers  for  a  cigar. 

"  Can't  smoke  here,"  said  he. 

" No,"  I  answered;  "of  course  not.  I  '11  go 
forward  into  the  smoking-car." 

"  Come  along,"  said  he,  and  we  went  through  the 
train. 

I  was  not  sorry  he  had  gone  with  me  when  I 
found  in  the  smoking-car  one  of  the  spies  who  had 
been  watching  me  so  constantly.  Stagers  nodded 
to  him  and  grinned  at  me,  and  we  sat  down 
together. 

"Chut!"  said  I,  "left  my  cigar  on  the  window- 
ledge  in  the  hindmost  car.  Be  back  in  a  moment." 

This  time,  for  a  wonder,  Stagers  allowed  me  to 
leave  unaccompanied.  I  hastened  through  to  the 
nearer  end  of  the  hindmost  car,  and  stood  on  the 
platform.  I  instantly  cut  the  signal-cord.  Then  I 
knelt  down,  and,  waiting  until  the  two  cars  ran 


THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF   A   QUACK         49 

together,  I  tugged  at  the  connecting-pin.  As  the 
cars  came  together,  I  could  lift  it  a  little,  then  as 
the  strain  came  on  the  coupling  the  pin  held  fast. 
At  last  I  made  a  great  effort,  and  out  it  came. 
The  car  I  was  on  instantly  lost  speed,  and  there 
on  the  other  platform,  a  hundred  feet  away,  was 
Stagers,  shaking  his  fist  at  me.  He  was  beaten,  and 
he  knew  it.  In  the  end  few  people  have  been  able 
to  get  ahead  of  me. 

The  retreating  train  was  half  a  mile  away  around 
the  curve  as  I  screwed  up  the  brake  on  my  car  hard 
enough  to  bring  it  nearly  to  a  stand.  I  did  not 
wait  for  it  to  stop  entirely  before  I  slipped  off  the 
steps,  leaving  the  other  passengers  to  dispose  of 
themselves  as  they  might  until  their  absence  should 
be  discovered  and  the  rest  of  the  train  return. 

As  I  wish  rather  to  illustrate  my  very  remarkable 
professional  career  than  to  amuse  by  describing  its 
lesser  incidents,  I  shall  not  linger  to  tell  how  I  suc- 
ceeded, at  last,  in  reaching  St.  Louis.  Fortunately, 
I  had  never  ceased  to  anticipate  the  moment  when 
escape  from  File  and  his  friends  would  be  possible, 
so  that  I  always  carried  about  with  me  the  very 
small  funds  with  which  I  had  hastily  provided  my- 
self upon  leaving.  The  whole  amount  did  not 
exceed  sixty-five  dollars,  but  with  this,  and  a  gold 
watch  worth  twice  as  much,  I  hoped  to  be  able  to 
subsist  until  my  own  ingenuity  enabled  me  to  provide 
more  liberally  for  the  future.  Naturally  enough,  I 
scanned  the  papers  closely  to  discover  some  account 
of  File's  death  and  of  the  disclosures  concerning 
myself  which  he  was  only  too  likely  to  have  made. 


50         THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A  QUACK 

I  came  at  last  on  an  account  of  how  he  had  poi- 
soned himself,  and  so  escaped  the  hangman.  I 
never  learned  what  he  had  said  about  me,  but  I 
was  quite  sure  he  had  not  let  me  off  easy.  I  felt 
that  this  failure  to  announce  his  confessions  was 
probably  due  to  c.  desire  on  the  part  of  the  police 
to  avoid  alarming  me.  Be  this  as  it  may,  I  re- 
mained long  ignorant  as  to  whether  or  not  the  vil- 
lain betrayed  my  part  in  that  unusual  coroner's 
inquest. 

Before  many  days  I  had  resolved  to  make  another 
and  a  bold  venture.  Accordingly  appeared  in  the 
St.  Louis  papers  an  advertisement  to  the  effect  that 
Dr.  von  Ingenhoff,  the  well-known  German  physi- 
cian, who  had  spent  two  years  on  the  Plains  acquir- 
ing a  knowledge  of  Indian  medicine,  was  prepared 
to  treat  all  diseases  by  vegetable  remedies  alone. 
Dr.  von  Ingenhoff  would  remain  in  St.  Louis  for 
two  weeks,  and  was  to  be  found  at  the  Grayson 
House  every  day  from  ten  until  two  o'clock. 

To  my  delight,  I  got  two  patients  the  first  day. 
The  next  I  had  twice  as  many,  when  at  once  I  hired 
two  connecting  rooms,  and  made  a  very  useful 
arrangement,  which  I  may  describe  dramatically  in 
the  following  way : 

There  being  two  or  three  patients  waiting  while 
I  finished  my  cigar  and  morning  julep,  enters  a 
respectable-looking  old  gentleman  who  inquires 
briskly  of  the  patients  if  this  is  really  Dr.  von 
Ingenhoff  s.  He  is  told  it  is.  My  friend  was  apt 
to  overact  his  part.  I  had  often  occasion  to  ask 
him  to  be  less  positive. 


THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A   QUACK         51 

"Ah,"  says  he,  "  I  shall  be  delighted  to  see  the 
doctor.  Five  years  ago  I  was  scalped  on  the  Plains, 
and  now" — exhibiting  a  well-covered  head — "you 
see  what  the  doctor  did  for  me.  'T  is  n't  any  won- 
der I  've  come  fifty  miles  to  see  him.  Any  of  you 
been  scalped,  gentlemen?" 

To  none  of  them  had  this  misfortune  arrived  as 
yet;  but,  like  most  folks  in  the  lower  ranks  of  life 
and  some  in  the  upper  ones,  it  was  pleasant  to  find 
a  genial  person  who  would  listen  to  their  account 
of  their  own  symptoms. 

Presently,  after  hearing  enough,  the  old  gentle- 
man pulls  out  a  large  watch.  "  Bless  me !  it 's  late. 
I  must  call  again.  May  I  trouble  you,  sir,  to  say 
to  the  doctor  that  his  old  friend  called  to  see  him 
and  will  drop  in  again  to-morrow?  Don't  forget: 
Governor  Brown  of  Arkansas."  A  moment  later 
the  governor  visited  me  by  a  side  door,  with  his 
account  of  the  symptoms  of  my  patients. 

Enter  a  tall  Hoosier,  the  governor  having  retired. 
"  Now,  doc,"  says  the  Hoosier,  "  I  've  been  handled 
awful  these  two  years  back."  "Stop!"  I  ex- 
claim. "  Open  your  eyes.  There,  now,  let  me  see," 
taking  his  pulse  as  I  speak.  "  Ah,  you  've  a  pain 
there,  and  there,  and  you  can't  sleep ;  cocktails 
don't  agree  any  longer.  Were  n't  you  bit  by  a  dog 
two  years  ago?"  "I  was,"  says  the  Hoosier,  in 
amazement.  "  Sir,"  I  reply,  "  you  have  chronic 
hydrophobia.  It  's  the  water  in  the  cocktails  that 
disagrees  with  you.  My  bitters  will  cure  you  in  a 
week,  sir.  No  more  whisky— drink  milk." 

The  astonishment  of  my  patient  at  these  accurate 


52        THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK 

revelations  may  be  imagined.  He  is  allowed  to 
wait  for  his  medicine  in  the  anteroom,  where  the 
chances  are  in  favor  of  his  relating  how  wonderfully 
I  had  told  all  his  symptoms  at  a  glance. 

Governor  Brown  of  Arkansas  was  a  small  but 
clever  actor,  whom  I  met  in  the  billiard-room,  and 
who  day  after  day,  in  varying  disguises  and  modes, 
played  off  the  same  tricks,  to  our  great  common 
advantage. 

At  my  friend's  suggestion,  we  very  soon  added 
to  our  resources  by  the  purchase  of  two  electro- 
magnetic batteries.  This  special  means  of  treating 
all  classes  of  maladies  has  advantages  which  are 
altogether  peculiar.  In  the  first  place,  you  instruct 
your  patient  that  the  treatment  is  of  necessity  a 
long  one.  A  striking  mode  of  putting  it  is  to  say, 
"  Sir,  you  have  been  six  months  getting  ill ;  it  will 
require  six  months  for  a  cure."  There  is  a  correct 
sound  about  such  a  phrase,  and  it  is  sure  to  satisfy. 
Two  sittings  a  week,  at  two  dollars  a  sitting,  will 
pay.  In  many  cases  the  patient  gets  well  while  you 
are  electrifying  him.  Whether  or  not  the  elec- 
tricity cured  him  is  a  thing  I  shall  never  know.  If, 
however,  he  began  to  show  signs  of  impatience,  I 
advised  him  that  he  would  require  a  year's  treat- 
ment, and  suggested  that  it  would  be  economical 
for  him  to  buy  a  battery  and  use  it  at  home.  Thus 
advised,  he  pays  you  twenty  dollars  for  an  instru- 
ment which  cost  you  ten,  and  you  are  rid  of  a 
troublesome  case. 

If  the  reader  has  followed  me  closely,  he  will 
have  learned  that  I  am  a  man  of  large  and  liberal 


THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A   QUACK         53 

views  in  my  profession,  and  of  a  very  justifiable 
ambition.  The  idea  has  often  occurred  to  me  of 
combining  in  one  establishment  all  the  various 
modes  of  practice  which  are  known  as  irregular. 
This,  as  will  be  understood,  is  really  only  a  wider 
application  of  the  idea  which  prompted  me  to  unite 
in  my  own  business  homeopathy  and  the  practice 
of  medicine.  I  proposed  to  my  partner,  accord- 
ingly, to  combine  with  our  present  business  that  of 
spiritualism,  which  I  knew  had  been  very  profitably 
turned  to  account  in  connection  with  medical  prac- 
tice. As  soon  as  he  agreed  to  this  plan,  which,  by 
the  way,  I  hoped  to  enlarge  so  as  to  include  all  the 
available  isms,  I  set  about  making  such  preparations 
as  were  necessary.  I  remembered  having  read 
somewhere  that  a  Dr.  Schiff  had  shown  that  he 
could  produce  remarkable  "  knockings,"  so  called, 
by  voluntarily  dislocating  the  great  toe  and  then 
forcibly  drawing  it  back  into  its  socket.  A  still 
better  noise  could  be  made  by  throwing  the  tendon 
of  the  peroneus  longus  muscle  out  of  the  hollow  in 
which  it  lies,  alongside  of  the  ankle.  After  some 
effort  I  was  able  to  accomplish  both  feats  quite 
readily,  and  could  occasion  a  remarkable  variety  of 
sounds,  according  to  the  power  which  I  employed 
or  the  positions  which  I  occupied  at  the  time.  As 
to  all  other  matters,  I  trusted  to  the  suggestions  of 
my  own  ingenuity,  which,  as  a  rule,  has  rarely  failed 
me. 

The  largest  success  attended  the  novel  plan  which 
my  lucky  genius  had  devised,  so  that  soon  we  actu- 
ally began  to  divide  large  profits  and  to  lay  by  a 


54         THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A   QUACK 

portion  of  our  savings.  It  is,  of  course,  not  to  be 
supposed  that  this  desirable  result  was  attained 
without  many  annoyances  and  some  positive  dan- 
ger. My  spiritual  revelations,  medical  and  other, 
were,  as  may  be  supposed,  only  more  or  less  happy 
guesses;  but  in  this,  as  in  predictions  as  to  the 
weather  and  other  events,  the  rare  successes  always 
get  more  prominence  in  the  minds  of  men  than  the 
numerous  failures.  Moreover,  whenever  a  person 
has  been  fool  enough  to  resort  to  folks  like  myself, 
he  is  always  glad  to  be  able  to  defend  his  conduct 
by  bringing  forward  every  possible  proof  of  skill  on 
the  part  of  the  men  he  has  consulted.  These  con- 
siderations, and  a  certain  love  of  mysterious  or 
unusual  means,  I  have  commonly  found  sufficient  to 
secure  an  ample  share  of  gullible  individuals.  I 
may  add,  too,  that  those  who  would  be  shrewd 
enough  to  understand  and  expose  us  are  wise 
enough  to  keep  away  altogether.  Such  as  did  come 
were,  as  a  rule,  easy  enough  to  manage,  but  now 
and  then  we  hit  upon  some  utterly  exceptional 
patient  who  was  both  foolish  enough  to  consult  us 
and  sharp  enough  to  know  he  had  been  swindled. 
When  such  a  fellow  made  a  fuss,  it  was  occasionally 
necessary  to  return  his  money  if  it  was  found  impos- 
sible to  bully  him  into  silence.  In  one  or  two 
instances,  where  I  had  promised  a  cure  upon  pre- 
payment of  two  or  three  hundred  dollars,  I  was 
either  sued  or  threatened  with  suit,  and  had  to 
refund  a  part  or  the  whole  of  the  amount;  but 
most  people  preferred  to  hold  their  tongues  rather 
than  expose  to  the  world  the  extent  of  their  own  folly. 


THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A   QUACK        55 

In  one  most  disastrous  case  I  suffered  personally 
to  a  degree  which  I  never  can  recall  without  a  dis- 
tinct sense  of  annoyance,  both  at  my  own  want  of 
care  and  at  the  disgusting  consequences  which  it 
brought  upon  me. 

Early  one  morning  an  old  gentleman  called,  in  a 
state  of  the  utmost  agitation,  and  explained  that  he 
desired  to  consult  the  spirits  as  to  a  heavy  loss 
which  he  had  experienced  the  night  before.  He 
had  left,  he  said,  a  sum  of  money  in  his  pantaloons 
pocket  upon  going  to  bed.  In  the  morning  he  had 
changed  his  clothes  and  gone  out,  forgetting  to 
remove  the  notes.  Returning  in  an  hour  in  great 
haste,  he  discovered  that  the  garment  still  lay  upon 
the  chair  where  he  had  thrown  it,  but  that  the 
money  was  missing.  I  at  once  desired  him  to  be 
seated,  and  proceeded  to  ask  him  certain  questions, 
in  a  chatty  way,  about  the  habits  of  his  household, 
the  amount  lost,  and  the  like,  expecting  thus  to  get 
some  clue  which  would  enable  me  to  make  my 
spirits  display  the  requisite  share  of  sagacity  in 
pointing  out  the  thief.  I  learned  readily  that  he 
was  an  old  and  wealthy  man,  a  little  close,  too,  I 
suspected,  and  that  he  lived  in  a  large  house  with 
but  two  servants,  and  an  only  son  about  twenty-one 
years  old.  The  servants  were  both  women  who 
had  lived  in  the  household  many  years,  and  were 
probably  innocent.  Unluckily,  remembering  my 
own  youthful  career,  I  presently  reached  the  con- 
clusion that  the  young  man  had  been  the  delin- 
quent. When  I  ventured  to  inquire  a  little  as  to  his 
habits,  the  old  gentleman  cut  me  very  short,  remark- 


56       THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF  A  QUACK 

ing  that  he  came  to  ask  questions,  and  not  to  be 
questioned,  and  that  he  desired  at  once  to  consult 
the  spirits.  Upon  this  I  sat  down  at  a  table,  and, 
after  a  brief  silence,  demanded  in  a  solemn  voice  if 
there  were  any  spirits  present.  By  industriously 
cracking  my  big  toe-joint  I  was  enabled  to  repre- 
sent at  once  the  presence  of  a  numerous  assembly 
of  these  worthies.  Then  I  inquired  if  any  one  of 
them  had  been  present  when  the  robbery  was 
effected.  A  prompt  double  knock  replied  in  the 
affirmative.  I  may  say  here,  by  the  way,  that  the 
unanimity  of  the  spirits  as  to  their  use  of  two 
knocks  for  "  yes "  and  one  for  "  no "  is  a  very 
remarkable  point,  and  shows,  if  it  shows  anything, 
how  perfect  and  universal  must  be  the  social  inter- 
course of  the  respected  departed.  It  is  worthy  of 
note,  also,  that  if  the  spirit — I  will  not  say  the 
medium — perceives  after  one  knock  that  it  were 
wiser  to  say  yes,  he  can  conveniently  add  the  sec- 
ond tap.  Some  such  arrangement  in  real  life 
would,  it  appears  to  me,  be  highly  desirable. 

It  seemed  that  the  spirit  was  that  of  Vidocq,  the 
French  detective.  I  had  just  read  a  translation  of 
his  memoirs,  and  he  seemed  to  me  a  very  available 
spirit  to  call  upon. 

As  soon  as  I  explained  that  the  spirit  who  an- 
swered had  been  a  witness  of  the  theft,  the  old  man 
became  strangely  agitated.  "Who  was  it?"  said 
he.  At  once  the  spirit  indicated  a  desire  to  use  the 
alphabet.  As  we  went  over  the  letters, — always  a 
slow  method,  but  useful  when  you  want  to  observe 
excitable  people, — my  visitor  kept  saying,  "  Quicker 


THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A   QUACK         57 

— go  quicker."  At  length  the  spirit  spelled  out  the 
words,  "  I  know  not  his  name." 

"  Was  it,"  said  the  gentleman — "  was  it  a — was 
it  one  of  my  household?" 

I  knocked  "yes"  without  hesitation;  who  else, 
indeed,  could  it  have  been? 

"  Excuse  me,"  he  went  on,  "  if  I  ask  you  for  a 
little  whisky." 

This  I  gave  him.  He  continued :  "  Was  it  Susan 
or  Ellen?" 

"No,  no!" 

"  Was  it — "  He  paused.  "  If  I  ask  a  question 
mentally,  will  the  spirits  reply?"  I  knew  what  he 
meant.  He  wanted  to  ask  if  it  was  his  son,  but  did 
not  wish  to  speak  openly. 

"  Ask,"  said  I. 

"  I  have,"  he  returned. 

I  hesitated.  It  was  rarely  my  policy  to  commit 
myself  definitely,  yet  here  I  fancied,  from  the  facts 
of  the  case  and  his  own  terrible  anxiety,  that  he 
suspected,  or  more  than  suspected,  his  son  as  the 
guilty  person.  I  became  sure  of  this  as  I  studied  his 
face.  At  all  events,  it  would  be  easy  to  deny  or 
explain  in  case  of  trouble;  and,  after  all,  what 
slander  was  there  in  two  knocks?  I  struck  twice 
as  usual. 

Instantly  the  old  gentleman  rose  up,  very  white, 
but  quite  firm.  "  There,"  he  said,  and  cast  a  bank- 
note on  the  table,  "  I  thank  you,"  and  bending  his 
head  on  his  breast,  walked,  as  I  thought,  with  great 
effort  out  of  the  room. 

On  the  following  morning,  as  I  made  my  first 


58         THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF  A  QUACK 

appearance  in  my  outer  room,  which  contained  at 
least  a  dozen  persons  awaiting  advice,  who  should 
I  see  standing  by  the  window  but  the  old  gentle- 
man with  sandy-gray  hair  ?  Along  with  him  was  a 
stout  young  man  with  a  head  as  red  as  mine,  and 
mustache  and  whiskers  to  match.  Probably  the 
son,  I  thought — ardent  temperament,  remorse, 
come  to  confess,  etc.  I  was  never  more  mistaken 
in  my  life.  I  was  about  to  go  regularly  through 
my  patients  when  the  old  gentleman  began  to 
speak. 

"  I  called,  doctor,"  said  he,  "  to  explain  the  little 
matter  about  which  I — about  which  I — " 

"Troubled  your  spirits  yesterday,"  added  the 
youth,  jocosely,  pulling  his  mustache. 

"Beg  pardon,"  I  returned;  "had  we  not  better 
talk  this  over  in  private?  Come  into  my  office,"  I 
added,  touching  the  younger  man  on  the  arm. 

Would  you  believe  it?  he  took  out  his  handker- 
chief and  dusted  the  place  I  had  touched.  "  Better 
not,"  said  he.  "Go  on,  father;  let  us  get  done 
with  this  den." 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  the  elder  person,  addressing 
the  patients,  "  I  called  here  yesterday,  like  a  fool, 
to  ask  who  had  stolen  from  me  a  sum  of  money 
which  I  believed  I  left  in  my  room  on  going  out  in 
the  morning.  This  doctor  here  and  his  spirits  con- 
trived to  make  me  suspect  my  only  son.  Well,  I 
charged  him  at  once  with  the  crime  as  soon  as  I 
got  back  home,  and  what  do  you  think  he  did? 
He  said,  'Father,  let  us  go  up-stairs  and  look  for  it,' 
and — " 


THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A   QUACK         59 

Here  the  young  man  broke  in  with :  "  Come, 
father ;  don't  worry  yourself  for  nothing " ;  and 
then  turning,  added :  "  To  cut  the  thing  short,  he 
found  the  notes  under  his  candlestick,  where  he 
left  them  on  going  to  bed.  This  is  all  of  it.  We 
came  here  to  stop  this  fellow  "  (by  which  he  meant 
me)  "  from  carrying  a  slander  further.  I  advise 
you,  good  people,  to  profit  by  the  matter,  and  to 
look  up  a  more  honest  doctor,  if  doctoring  be  what 
you  want." 

As  soon  as  he  had  ended,  I  remarked  solemnly : 
"  The  words  of  the  spirits  are  not  my  words.  Who 
shall  hold  them  accountable?" 

"Nonsense,"  said  the  young  man.  "Come, 
father";  and  they  left  the  room. 

Now  was  the  time  to  retrieve  my  character. 
"  Gentlemen,"  said  I,  "  you  have  heard  this  very 
singular  account.  Trusting  the  spirits  utterly  and 
entirely  as  I  do,  it  occurs  to  me  that  there  is  no 
reason  why  they  may  not,  after  all,  have  been  right 
in  their  suspicions  of  this  young  person.  Who  can 
say  that,  overcome  by  remorse,  he  may  not  have 
seized  the  time  of  his  father's  absence  to  replace  the 
money?  " 

To  my  amazement,  up  gets  a  little  old  man  from 
the  corner.  "Well,  you  are  a  low  cuss!"  said  he, 
and  taking  up  a  basket  beside  him,  hobbled  hastily 
out  of  the  room.  You  may  be  sure  I  said  some 
pretty  sharp  things  to  him,  for  I  was  out  of  humor 
to  begin  with,  and  it  is  one  thing  to  be  insulted  by 
a  stout  young  man,  and  quite  another  to  be  abused 
by  a  wretched  old  cripple.  However,  he  went 


60         THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A   QUACK 

away,  and  I  supposed,  for  my  part,  that  I  was  done 
with  the  whole  business. 

An  hour  later,  however,  I  heard  a  rough  knock 
at  my  door,  and  opening  it  hastily,  saw  my  red- 
headed young  man  with  the  cripple. 

"  Now,"  said  the  former,  taking  me  by  the  collar, 
and  pulling  me  into  the  room  among  my  patients, 
"  I  want  to  know,  my  man,  if  this  doctor  said  that 
it  was  likely  I  was  the  thief  after  all?" 

"That  *s  what  he  said,"  replied  the  cripple; 
"  just  about  that,  sir." 

I  do  not  desire  to  dwell  on  the  after  conduct  of 
this  hot-headed  young  man.  It  was  the  more  dis- 
graceful as  I  offered  but  little  resistance,  and  en- 
dured a  beating  such  as  I  would  have  hesitated  to 
inflict  upon  a  dog.  Nor  was  this  all.  He  warned 
me  that  if  I  dared  to  remain  in  the  city  after  a 
week  he  would  shoot  me.  In  the  East  I  should 
have  thought  but  little  of  such  a  threat,  but  here  it 
was  only  too  likely  to  be  practically  carried  out. 
Accordingly,  with  my  usual  decision  of  character, 
but  with  much  grief  and  reluctance,  I  collected  my 
whole  fortune,  which  now  amounted  to  at  least 
seven  thousand  dollars,  and  turned  my  back  upon 
this  ungrateful  town.  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  I  also 
left  behind  me  the  last  of  my  good  luck. 

I  traveled  in  a  leisurely  way  until  I  reached 
Boston.  The  country  anywhere  would  have  been 
safer,  but  I  do  not  lean  to  agricultural  pursuits. 
It  seemed  an  agreeable  city,  and  I  decided  to 
remain. 

I  took  good  rooms  at  Parker's,  and  concluding 


THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF   A   QUACK         6l 

to  enjoy  life,  amused  myself  in  the  company  of 
certain,  I  may  say  uncertain,  young  women  who 
danced  at  some  of  the  theaters.  I  played  billiards, 
drank  rather  too  much,  drove  fast  horses,  and  at 
the  end  of  a  delightful  year  was  shocked  to  find 
myself  in  debt,  and  with  only  seven  dollars  and 
fifty-three  cents  left — I  like  to  be  accurate.  I  had 
only  one  resource:  I  determined  to  visit  my  deaf 
aunt  and  Peninnah,  and  to  see  what  I  could  do  in 
the  role  of  the  prodigal  nephew.  At  all  events,  I 
should  gain  time  to  think  of  what  new  enterprise  I 
could  take  up ;  but,  above  all,  I  needed  a  little 
capital  and  a  house  over  my  head.  I  had  pawned 
nearly  everything  of  any  value  which  I  possessed. 

I  left  my  debts  to  gather  interest,  and  went  away 
to  Woodbury.  It  was  the  day  before  Christmas 
when  I  reached  the  little  Jersey  town,  and  it  was 
also  by  good  luck  Sunday.  I  was  hungry  and 
quite  penniless.  I  wandered  about  until  church 
had  begun,  because  I  was  sure  then  to  find  Aunt 
Rachel  and  Peninnah  out  at  the  service,  and  I  de- 
sired to  explore  a  little.  The  house  was  closed,  and 
even  the  one  servant  absent.  I  got  in  with  ease  at 
the  back  through  the  kitchen,  and  having  at  least  an 
hour  and  a  half  free  from  interruption,  I  made  a 
leisurely  search.  The  role  of  prodigal  was  well 
enough,  but  here  was  a  better  chance  and  an  in- 
dulgent opportunity. 

In  a  few  moments  I  found  the  famous  Bible  hid 
away  under  Aunt  Rachel's  mattress.  The  Bible 
bank  was  fat  with  notes,  but  I  intended  to  be  mod- 
erate enough  to  escape  suspicion.  Here  were  quite 


62         THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A   QUACK 

two  thousand  dollars.  I  resolved  to  take,  just  now, 
only  one  hundred,  so  as  to  keep  a  good  balance. 
Then,  alas!  I  lit  on  a  long  envelop,  my  aunt's  will. 
Every  cent  was  left  to  Christ  Church ;  not  a  dime 
to  poor  Pen  or  to  me.  I  was  in  a  rage.  I  tore  up 
the  will  and  replaced  the  envelop.  To  treat  poor 
Pen  that  way — Pen  of  all  people!  There  was  a 
heap  more  will  than  testament,  for  all  it  was  in  the 
Bible.  After  that  I  thought  it  was  right  to  punish 
the  old  witch,  and  so  I  took  every  note  I  could  find. 
When  I  was  through  with  this  business,  I  put  back 
the  Bible  under  the  mattress,  and  observing  that  I 
had  been  quite  too  long,  I  went  down-stairs  with  a 
keen  desire  to  leave  the  town  as  early  as  possible. 
I  was  tempted,  however,  to  look  further,  and  was 
rewarded  by  rinding  in  an  old  clock  case  a  small 
reticule  stuffed  with  bank-notes.  This  I  appro- 
priated, and  made  haste  to  go  out.  I  was  too  late. 
As  I  went  into  the  little  entry  to  get  my  hat  and 
coat,  Aunt  Rachel  entered,  followed  by  Peninnah. 

At  sight  of  me  my  aunt  cried  out  that  I  was  a 
monster  and  fit  for  the  penitentiary.  As  she  could 
not  hear  at  all,  she  had  the  talk  to  herself,  and  went 
by  me  and  up-stairs,  rumbling  abuse  like  distant 
thunder  overhead. 

Meanwhile  I  was  taken  up  with  Pen.  The  pretty 
fool  was  seated  on  a  chair,  all  dressed  up  in  her 
Sunday  finery,  and  rocking  backward  and  forward, 
crying,  "Oh,  oh,  ah!"  like  a  lamb  saying,  "Baa, 
baa,  baa!"  She  never  had  much  sense.  I  had  to 
shake  her  to  get  a  reasonable  word.  She  mopped 
her  eyes,  and  I  heard  her  gasp  out  that  my  aunt 


THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A   QUACK         63 

had  at  last  decided  that  I  was  the  person  who  had 
thinned  her  hoards.  This  was  bad,  but  involved 
less  inconvenience  than  it  might  have  done  an  hour 
earlier.  Amid  tears  Pen  told  me  that  a  detective 
had  been  at  the  house  inquiring  for  me.  When  this 
happened  it  seems  that  the  poor  little  goose  had 
tried  to  fool  deaf  Aunt  Rachel  with  some  made-up 
story  as  to  the  man  having  come  about  taxes.  I 
suppose  the  girl  was  not  any  too  sharp,  and  the  old 
woman,  I  guess,  read  enough  from  merely  seeing 
the  man's  lips.  You  never  could  keep  anything 
from  her,  and  she  was  both  curious  and  suspicious. 
She  assured  the  officer  that  I  was  a  thief,  and  hoped 
I  might  be  caught.  I  could  not  learn  whether  the 
man  told  Pen  any  particulars,  but  as  I  was  slowly 
getting  at  the  facts  we  heard  a  loud  scream  and  a 
heavy  fall. 

Pen  said,  "Oh,  oh!"  and  we  hurried  up-stairs. 
There  was  the  old  woman  on  the  floor,  her  face 
twitching  to  right,  and  her  breathing  a  sort  of  hoarse 
croak.  The  big  Bible  lay  open  on  the  floor,  and  I 
knew  what  had  happened.  It  was  a  fit  of  apoplexy. 

At  this  very  unpleasant  sight  Pen  seemed  to  re- 
cover her  wits,  and  said :  "  Go  away,  go  away ! 
Oh,  brother,  brother,  now  I  know  you  have  stolen 
her  money  and  killed  her,  and — and  I  loved  you, 
I  was  so  proud  of  you !  Oh,  oh ! " 

This  was  all  very  fine,  but  the  advice  was  good. 
I  said :  "  Yes,  I  had  better  go.  Run  and  get  some 
one — a  doctor.  It  is  a  fit  of  hysterics ;  there  is  no 
danger.  I  will  write  to  you.  You  are  quite  mis- 
taken." 


64         THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A   QUACK 

This  was  too  feeble  even  for  Pen,  and  she  cried : 

"  No,  never ;  I  never  want  to  see  you  again.  You 
would  kill  me  next." 

"  Stuff ! "  said  I,  and  ran  down-stairs.  I  seized  my 
coat  and  hat,  and  went  to  the  tavern,  where  I  got  a 
man  to  drive  me  to  Camden.  I  have  never  seen  Pen 
since.  As  I  crossed  the  ferry  to  Philadelphia  I  saw 
that  I  should  have  asked  when  the  detective  had 
been  after  me.  I  suspected  from  Pen's  terror  that 
it  had  been  recently. 

It  was  Sunday  and,  as  I  reminded  myself,  the 
day  before  Christmas.  The  ground  was  covered 
with  snow,  and  as  I  walked  up  Market  Street  my 
feet  were  soon  soaked.  In  my  haste  I  had  left  my 
overshoes.  I  was  very  cold,  and,  as  I  now  see, 
foolishly  fearful.  I  kept  thinking  of  what  a  con- 
spicuous thing  a  fire-red  head  is,  and  of  how  many 
people  knew  me.  As  I  reached  Woodbury  early 
and  without  a  cent,  I  had  eaten  nothing  all  day.  I 
relied  on  Pen. 

Now  I  concluded  to  go  down  into  my  old  neigh- 
borhood and  get  a  lodging  where  no  references  were 
asked.  Next  day  I  would  secure  a  disguise  and  get 
out  of  the  way.  I  had  passed  the  day  without  food, 
as  I  have  just  said,  and  having  ample  means,  con- 
cluded to  go  somewhere  and  get  a  good  dinner.  It 
was  now  close  to  three  in  the  afternoon.  I  was 
aware  of  two  things :  that  I  was  making  many  plans, 
and  giving  them  up  as  soon  as  made ;  and  that  I 
was  suddenly  afraid  without  cause,  afraid  to  enter 
an  eating-house,  and  in  fear  of  every  man  I  met. 

I  went  on,  feeling  more  and  more  chilly.     When 


THE  BIG  BIBLE  LAY  OPEN  ON   THE  FLOOR." 


THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF   A  QUACK        6$ 

a  man  is  really  cold  his  mind  does  not  work  well, 
and  now  it  was  blowing  a  keen  gale  from  the  north. 
At  Second  and  South  I  came  plump  on  a  policeman 
I  knew.  He  looked  at  me  through  the  drifting  snow, 
as  if  he  was  uncertain,  and  twice  looked  back  after 
having  passed  me.  I  turned  west  at  Christian 
Street.  When  I  looked  behind  me  the  man  was 
standing  at  the  corner,  staring  after  me.  At  the 
next  turn  I  hurried  away  northward  in  a  sort  of 
anguish  of  terror.  I  have  said  I  was  an  uncommon 
person.  I  am.  I  am  sensitive,  too.  My  mind  is 
much  above  the  average,  but  unless  I  am  warm  and 
well  fed  it  does  not  act  well,  and  I  make  mistakes. 
At  that  time  I  was  half  frozen,  in  need  of  food,  and 
absurdly  scared.  Then  that  old  fool  squirming  on 
the  floor  got  on  to  my  nerves.  I  went  on  and  on, 
and  at  last  into  Second  Street,  until  I  came  to  Christ 
Church,  of  all  places  for  me.  I  heard  the  sound  of 
the  organ  in  the  afternoon  service.  I  felt  I  must  go 
in  and  get  warm.  Here  was  another  silly  notion : 
I  was  afraid  of  hotels,  but  not  of  the  church.  I 
reasoned  vaguely  that  it  was  a  dark  day,  and  darker 
in  the  church,  and  so  I  went  in  at  the  Church  Alley 
entrance  and  sat  near  the  north  door.  No  one  no- 
ticed me.  I  sat  still  in  a  high-backed  pew,  well  hid, 
and  wondering  what  was  the  matter  with  me.  It 
was  curious  that  a  doctor,  and  a  man  of  my  intelli- 
gence, should  have  been  long  in  guessing  a  thing  so 
simple. 

For  two  months  I  had  been  drinking  hard,  and 
for  two  days  had  quit,  being  a  man  capable  of  great 
self-control,  and  also  being  short  of  money.  Just 


66         THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A   QUACK 

before  the  benediction  I  saw  a  man  near  by  who 
seemed  to  stare  at  me.  In  deadly  fear  I  got  up  and 
quickly  slipped  through  a  door  into  the  tower  room. 
I  said  to  myself,  "  He  will  follow  me  or  wait  out- 
side." I  stood  a  moment  with  my  head  all  of  a 
whirl,  and  then  in  a  shiver  of  fear  ran  up  the  stairs 
to  the  tower  until  I  got  into  the  bell-ringer's  room. 
I  was  safe.  I  sat  down  on  a  stool,  twitching  and 
tremulous.  There  were  the  old  books  on  bell-ring- 
ing, and  the  miniature  chime  of  small  bells  for  in- 
struction. The  wind  had  easy  entrance,  and  it 
swung  the  eight  ropes  about  in  a  way  I  did  not 
like.  I  remember  saying,  "  Oh,  don't  do  that." 
At  last  I  had  a  mad  desire  to  ring  one  of  the  bells. 
As  a  loop  of  rope  swung  toward  me  it  seemed  to 
hold  a  face,  and  this  face  cried  out,  "  Come  and  hang 
yourself;  then  the  bell  will  ring." 

If  I  slept  I  do  not  know.  I  may  have  done  so. 
Certainly  I  must  have  stayed  there  many  hours.  I 
was  dull  and  confused,  and  yet  on  my  guard,  for 
when  far  into  the  night  I  heard  noises  below,  I  ran 
up  the  steeper  steps  which  ascend  to  the  steeple, 
where  are  the  bells.  Half-way  up  I  sat  down  on 
the  stair.  The  place  was  cold  and  the  darkness 
deep.  Then  I  heard  the  eight  ringers  down  below. 
One  said :  "  Never  knowed  a  Christmas  like  this 
since  Zeb  Sandcraft  died.  Come,  boys ! "  I  knew 
it  must  be  close  on  to  midnight.  Now  they  would 
play  a  Christmas  carol.  I  used  every  Christmas  to 
be  roused  up  and  carried  here  and  set  on  dad's 
shoulder.  When  they  were  done  ringing,  No.  2 
always  gave  me  a  box  of  sugar-plums  and  a  large 


THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF   A   QUACK         67 

red  apple.  As  they  rang  off,  my  father  would 
cry  out,  "  One,  two,"  and  so  on,  and  then  cry, 
"  Ezra,  all  over  town  people  are  opening  windows 
to  listen."  I  seemed  to  hear  him  as  I  sat  in  the 
gloom.  Then  I  heard,  "  All  ready;  one,  two,"  and 
they  rang  the  Christmas  carol.  Overhead  I  heard 
the  great  bells  ringing  out: 

And  all  the  bells  on  earth  shall  ring 
On  Christmas  day,  on  Christmas  day. 

I  felt  suddenly  excited,  and  began  to  hum  the 
air.  Great  heavens!  There  was  the  old  woman, 
Aunt  Rachel,  with  her  face  going  twitch,  twitch,  the 
croak  of  her  breathing  keeping  a  sort  of  mad  time 
with  "  On  Christmas  day,  on  Christmas  day."  I 
jumped  up.  She  was  gone.  I  knew  in  a  hazy  sort 
of  way  what  was  the  matter  with  me,  but  I  had  still 
the  sense  to  sit  down  and  wait.  I  said  now  it  would 
be  snakes,  for  once  before  I  had  been  almost  as  bad. 
But  what  I  did  see  was  a  little  curly-headed  boy  in 
a  white  frock  and  pantalets,  climbing  up  the  stairs 
right  leg  first ;  so  queer  of  me  to  have  noticed  that. 
I  knew  I  was  that  boy.  He  was  an  innocent-look- 
ing little  chap,  and  was  smiling.  He  seemed  to  me 
to  grow  and  grow,  and  at  last  was  a  big,  red-headed 
man  with  a  live  rat  in  his  hand.  I  saw  nothing 
more,  but  I  surely  knew  I  needed  whisky.  I  waited 
until  all  was  still,  and  got  down  and  out,  for  I  knew 
every  window.  I  soon  found  a  tavern,  and  got  a 
drink  and  some  food.  At  once  my  fear  left  me. 
I  was  warm  at  last  and  clear  of  head,  and  had  again 
my  natural  courage.  I  was  well  aware  that  I  was 


68        THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF  A  QUACK 

on  the  edge  of  delirium  tremens  and  must  be  most 
prudent.  I  paid  in  advance  for  my  room  and  treated 
myself  as  I  had  done  many  another.  Only  a  man 
of  unusual  force  could  have  managed  his  own  case 
as  I  did.  I  went  out  only  at  night,  and  in  a  week 
was  well  enough  to  travel.  During  this  time  I  saw 
now  and  then  that  grinning  little  fellow.  Some- 
times he  had  an  apple  and  was  eating  it.  I  do  not 
know  why  he  was  worse  to  me  than  snakes,  or  the 
twitchy  old  woman  with  her  wide  eyes  of  glass,  and 
that  jerk,  jerk,  to  right. 

I  decided  to  go  back  to  Boston.  I  got  to  New 
York  prudently  in  a  roundabout  way,  and  in  two 
weeks'  time  was  traveling  east  from  Albany. 

I  felt  well,  and  my  spirits  began  at  last  to  rise  to 
their  usual  level.  When  I  arrived  in  Boston  I  set 
myself  to  thinking  how  best  I  could  contrive  to 
enjoy  life  and  at  the  same  time  to  increase  my 
means.  I  possessed  sufficient  capital,  and  was  able 
and  ready  to  embark  in  whatever  promised  the  best 
returns  with  the  smallest  personal  risks.  I  settled 
myself  in  a  suburb,  paid  off  a  few  pressing  claims, 
and  began  to  reflect  with  my  ordinary  sagacity. 

We  were  now  in  the  midst  of  a  most  absurd  war 
with  the  South,  and  it  was  becoming  difficult  to 
escape  the  net  of  conscription.  It  might  be  wise  to 
think  of  this  in  time.  Europe  seemed  a  desirable 
residence,  but  I  needed  more  money  to  make  this 
agreeable,  and  an  investment  for  my  brains  was 
what  I  wanted  most.  Many  schemes  presented 
themselves  as  worthy  the  application  of  industry  and 
talent,  but  none  of  them  altogether  suited  my  case. 


THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A   QUACK         69 

I  thought  at  times  of  traveling  as  a  physiological 
lecturer,  combining  with  it  the  business  of  a  practi- 
tioner :  scare  the  audience  at  night  with  an  enumer- 
ation of  symptoms  which  belong  to  ten  out  of  every 
dozen  healthy  people,  and  then  doctor  such  of  them 
as  are  gulls  enough  to  consult  me  next  day.  The 
bigger  the  fright  the  better  the  pay.  I  was  a  little 
timid,  however,  about  facing  large  audiences,  as 
a  man  will  be  naturally  if  he  has  lived  a  life  of 
adventure,  so  that  upon  due  consideration  I  gave  up 
the  idea  altogether. 

The  patent-medicine  business  also  looked  well 
enough,  but  it  is  somewhat  overdone  at  all  times, 
and  requires  a  heavy  outlay,  with  the  probable  re- 
sult of  ill  success.  Indeed,  I  believe  one  hundred 
quack  remedies  fail  for  one  that  succeeds,  and  mil- 
lions must  have  been  wasted  in  placards,  bills,  and 
advertisements,  which  never  returned  half  their  value 
to  the  speculator.  I  think  I  shall  some  day  beguile 
my  time  with  writing  an  account  of  the  principal 
quack  remedies  which  have  met  with  success.  They 
are  few  in  number,  after  all,  as  any  one  must  know 
who  recalls  the  countless  pills  and  tonics  which  are 
puffed  awhile  on  the  fences,  and  disappear,  to  be 
heard  of  no  more. 

Lastly,  I  inclined  for  a  while  to  undertake  a  pri- 
vate insane  asylum,  which  appeared  to  me  to  offer 
facilities  for  money-making,  as  to  which,  however, 
I  may  have  been  deceived  by  the  writings  of  certain 
popular  novelists.  I  went  so  far,  I  may  say,  as 
actually  to  visit  Concord  for  the  purpose  of  finding 
a  pleasant  locality  and  a  suitable  atmosphere.  Upon 


70         THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A   QUACK 

reflection  I  abandoned  my  plans,  as  involving  too 
much  personal  labor  to  suit  one  of  my  easy  frame 
of  mind. 

Tired  at  last  of  idleness  and  lounging  on  the  Com- 
mon, I  engaged  in  two  or  three  little  ventures  of  a 
semi-professional  character,  such  as  an  exhibition  of 
laughing-gas,  advertising  to  cure  cancer, — "  Send 
twenty-five  stamps  by  mail  to  J.  B.,  and  receive  an 
infallible  receipt," — etc.  I  did  not  find,  however, 
that  these  little  enterprises  prospered  well  in  New 
England,  and  I  had  recalled  very  forcibly  a  story 
which  my  father  was  fond  of  relating  to  me  in  my 
boyhood.  It  was  about  how  certain  very  knowing 
flies  went  to  get  molasses,  and  how  it  ended  by  the 
molasses  getting  them.  This,  indeed,  was  precisely 
what  happened  to  me  in  all  my  efforts  to  better 
myself  in  the  Northern  States,  until  at  length  my 
misfortunes  climaxed  in  total  and  unexpected  ruin. 

Having  been  very  economical,  I  had  now  about 
twenty-seven  hundred  dollars.  It  was  none  too 
much.  At  this  time  I  made  the  acquaintance  of  a 
sea-captain  from  Maine.  He  told  me  that  he  and 
two  others  had  chartered  a  smart  little  steamer  to 
run  to  Jamaica  with  a  variety  cargo.  In  fact,  he 
meant  to  run  into  Wilmington  or  Charleston,  and  he 
was  to  carry  quinine,  chloroform,  and  other  medical 
requirements  for  the  Confederates.  He  needed 
twenty-five  hundred  dollars  more,  and  a  doctor  to 
buy  the  kind  of  things  which  army  surgeons  re- 
quire. Of  course  I  was  prudent  and  he  careful, 
but  at  last,  on  his  proving  to  me  that  there  was  no 
risk,  I  agreed  to  expend  his  money,  his  friends',  and 


THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A   QUACK         71 

my  own  up  to  twenty-five  hundred  dollars.  I  saw 
the  other  men,  one  of  them  a  rebel  captain.  I  was 
well  pleased  with  the  venture,  and  resolved  for 
obvious  reasons  to  go  with  them  on  the  steamer. 
It  was  a  promising  investment,  and  I  am  free  to 
reflect  that  in  this,  as  in  some  other  things,  I  have 
been  free  from  vulgar  prejudices.  I  bought  all  that 
we  needed,  and  was  well  satisfied  when  it  was 
cleverly  stowed  away  in  the  hold. 

We  were  to  sail  on  a  certain  Thursday  morning 
in  September,  1863.  I  sent  my  trunk  to  the  vessel, 
and  went  down  the  evening  before  we  were  to  start 
to  go  on  board,  but  found  that  the  little  steamer 
had  been  hauled  out  from  the  pier.  The  captain, 
who  met  me  at  this  time,  endeavored  to  get  a  boat 
to  ferry  us  to  the  ship ;  but  a  gale  was  blowing,  and 
he  advised  me  to  wait  until  morning.  My  associ- 
ates were  already  on  board.  Early  next  day  I 
dressed  and  went  to  the  captain's  room,  which 
proved  to  be  empty.  I  was  instantly  filled  with 
doubt,  and  ran  frantically  to  the  Long  Wharf, 
where,  to  my  horror,  I  could  see  no  signs  of  the 
vessel  or  captain.  Neither  have  I  ever  set  eyes 
on  them  from  that  time  to  this.  I  thought  of  lodg- 
ing information  with  the  police  as  to  the  unpatri- 
otic design  of  the  rascal  who  swindled  me,  but  on 
the  whole  concluded  that  it  was  best  to  hold  my 
tongue. 

It  was,  as  I  perceived,  such  utterly  spilt  milk  as 
to  be  little  worth  lamenting,  and  I  therefore  set  to 
work,  with  my  accustomed  energy,  to  utilize  on  my 
own  behalf  the  resources  of  my  medical  education, 


72         THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A   QUACK 

which  so  often  before  had  saved  me  from  want.  The 
war,  then  raging  at  its  height,  appeared  to  offer 
numerous  opportunities  to  men  of  talent.  The  path 
which  I  chose  was  apparently  a  humble  one,  but  it 
enabled  me  to  make  very  practical  use  of  my  pro- 
fessional knowledge,  and  afforded  for  a  time  rapid 
and  secure  returns,  without  any  other  investment 
than  a  little  knowledge  cautiously  employed.  In 
the  first  place,  I  deposited  my  small  remnant  of 
property  in  a  safe  bank.  Then  I  went  to  Providence, 
where,  as  I  had  heard,  patriotic  persons  were  giving 
very  large  bounties  in  order,  I  suppose,  to  insure  the 
government  the  services  of  better  men  than  them- 
selves. On  my  arrival  I  lost  no  time  in  offering 
myself  as  a  substitute,  and  was  readily  accepted, 
and  very  soon  mustered  into  the  Twentieth  Rhode 
Island.  Three  months  were  passed  in  camp,  during 
which  period  I  received  bounty  to  the  extent  of  six 
hundred  and  fifty  dollars,  with  which  I  tranquilly 
deserted  about  two  hours  before  the  regiment  left 
for  the  field.  With  the  product  of  my  industry  I 
returned  to  Boston,  and  deposited  all  but  enough  to 
carry  me  to  New  York,  where  within  a  month  I 
enlisted  twice,  earning  on  each  occasion  four  hun- 
dred dollars. 

After  this  I  thought  it  wise  to  try  the  same  game 
in  some  of  the  smaller  towns  near  to  Philadelphia. 
I  approached  my  birthplace  with  a  good  deal  of 
doubt ;  but  I  selected  a  regiment  in  camp  at  Norris- 
town,  which  is  eighteen  miles  away.  Here  I  got 
nearly  seven  hundred  dollars  by  entering  the  service 
as  a  substitute  for  an  editor,  whose  pen,  I  presume, 


THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A   QUACK         73 

was  mightier  than  his  sword.  I  was,  however,  dis- 
agreeably surprised  by  being  hastily  forwarded  to 
the  front  under  a  foxy  young  lieutenant,  who  bru- 
tally shot  down  a  poor  devil  in  the  streets  of  Balti- 
more for  attempting  to  desert.  At  this  point  I 
began  to  make  use  of  my  medical  skill,  for  I  did  not 
in  the  least  degree  fancy  being  shot,  either  because 
of  deserting  or  of  not  deserting.  It  happened,  there- 
fore, that  a  day  or  two  later,  while  in  Washington, 
I  was  seized  in  the  street  with  a  fit,  which  perfectly 
imposed  upon  the  officer  in  charge,  and  caused  him 
to  leave  me  at  the  Douglas  Hospital.  Here  I  found 
it  necessary  to  perform  fits  about  twice  a  week,  and 
as  there  were  several  real  epileptics  in  the  ward,  I 
had  a  capital  chance  of  studying  their  symptoms, 
which,  finally,  I  learned  to  imitate  with  the  utmost 
cleverness. 

I  soon  got  to  know  three  or  four  men  who,  like 
myself,  were  personally  averse  to  bullets,  and  who 
were  simulating  other  forms  of  disease  with  more  or 
less  success.  One  of  them  suffered  with  rheumatism 
of  the  back,  and  walked  about  like  an  old  man ;  an- 
other, who  had  been  to  the  front,  was  palsied  in  the 
right  arm.  A  third  kept  open  an  ulcer  on  the  leg, 
rubbing  in  a  little  antimonial  ointment,  which  I 
bought  at  fifty  cents,  and  sold  him  at  five  dollars  a 
box. 

A  change  in  the  hospital  staff  brought  all  of  us  to 
grief.  The  new  surgeon  was  a  quiet,  gentlemanly 
person,  with  pleasant  blue  eyes  and  clearly  cut 
features,  and  a  way  of  looking  at  you  without  say- 
ing much.  I  felt  so  safe  myself  that  I  watched 


74         THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF  A   QUACK 

his  procedures  with  just  that  kind  of  enjoyment 
which  one  clever  man  takes  in  seeing  another  at 
work. 

The  first  inspection  settled  two  of  us. 

"  Another  back  case,"  said  the  assistant  surgeon 
to  his  senior. 

"  Back  hurt  you  ?  "  says  the  latter,  mildly. 

"Yes,  sir;  run  over  by  a  howitzer;  ain't  never 
been  able  to  stand  straight  since." 

"A  howitzer!"  says  the  surgeon.  "Lean  for- 
ward, my  man,  so  as  to  touch  the  floor — so.  That 
will  do."  Then  turning  to  his  aid,  he  said,  "  Pre- 
pare this  man's  discharge  papers." 

"His  discharge,  sir?" 

"Yes;  I  said  that.     Who  's  next?" 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  groaned  the  man  with  the 
back.  "  How  soon,  sir,  do  you  think  it  will  be?" 

"  Ah,  not  less  than  a  month,"  replied  the  surgeon, 
and  passed  on. 

Now,  as  it  was  unpleasant  to  be  bent  like  the  letter 
C,  and  as  the  patient  presumed  that  his  discharge 
was  secure,  he  naturally  allowed  himself  a  little 
relaxation  in  the  way  of  becoming  straighten  Un- 
luckily, those  nice  blue  eyes  were  everywhere  at  all 
hours,  and  one  fine  morning  Smithson  was  appalled 
at  finding  himself  in  a  detachment  bound  for  the 
field,  and  bearing  on  his  descriptive  list  an  ill- 
natured  indorsement  about  his  malady. 

The  surgeon  came  next  on  O'Callahan,  standing, 
like  each  of  us,  at  the  foot  of  his  own  bed. 

"  I  've  paralytics  in  my  arm,"  he  said,  with  inten- 
tion to  explain  his  failure  to  salute  his  superior. 


THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A   QUACK         75 

"  Humph ! "  said  the  surgeon ;  "  you  have  another 
hand." 

"  An'  it  's  not  the  rigulation  to  saloot  with  yer 
left,"  said  the  Irishman,  with  a  grin,  while  the  pa- 
tients around  us  began  to  smile. 

"  How  did  it  happen?"  said  the  surgeon. 

"  I  was  shot  in  the  shoulder,"  answered  the  pa- 
tient, "  about  three  months  ago,  sir.  I  have  n't 
stirred  it  since." 

The  surgeon  looked  at  the  scar. 

"  So  recently  ?  "  said  he.  "  The  scar  looks  older ; 
and,  by  the  way,  doctor," — to  his  junior, — "  it  could 
not  have  gone  near  the  nerves.  Bring  the  battery, 
orderly." 

In  a  few  moments  the  surgeon  was  testing  one 
after  another  the  various  muscles.  At  last  he 
stopped.  "  Send  this  man  away  with  the  next  de- 
tachment. Not  a  word,  my  man.  You  are  a  rascal, 
and  a  disgrace  to  honest  men  who  have  been  among 
bullets." 

The  man  muttered  something,  I  did  not  hear 
what. 

"  Put  this  man  in  the  guard-house,"  cried  the 
surgeon,  and  so  passed  on  without  smile  or  frown. 

As  to  the  ulcer  case,  to  my  amusement  he  was 
put  in  bed,  and  his  leg  locked  up  in  a  wooden 
splint,  which  effectually  prevented  him  from  touch- 
ing the  part  diseased.  It  healed  in  ten  days,  and 
he  too  went  as  food  for  powder. 

The  surgeon  asked  me  a  few  questions,  and  re- 
questing to  be  sent  for  during  my  next  fit,  left  me 
alone. 


76        THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A  QUACK 

I  was,  of  course,  on  my  guard,  and  took  care  to 
have  my  attacks  only  during  his  absence,  or  to  have 
them  over  before  he  arrived.  At  length,  one  morn- 
ing, in  spite  of  my  care,  he  chanced  to  enter  the 
ward  as  I  fell  on  the  floor.  I  was  laid  on  the  bed, 
apparently  in  strong  convulsions.  Presently  I  felt 
a  finger  on  my  eyelid,  and  as  it  was  raised,  saw  the 
surgeon  standing  beside  me.  To  escape  his  scrutiny 
I  became  more  violent  in  my  motions.  He  stopped 
a  moment  and  looked  at  me  steadily.  "  Poor  fel- 
low!" said  he,  to  my  great  relief,  as  I  felt  at  once 
that  I  had  successfully  deceived  him.  Then  he 
turned  to  the  ward  doctor  and  remarked :  "  Take 
care  he  does  not  hurt  his  head  against  the  bed ;  and, 
by  the  by,  doctor,  do  you  remember  the  test  we 
applied  in  Carstairs's  case  ?  Just  tickle  the  soles  of 
his  feet  and  see  if  it  will  cause  those  backward  spasms 
of  the  head." 

The  aid  obeyed  him,  and,  very  naturally,  I  jerked 
my  head  backward  as  hard  as  I  could. 

"  That  will  answer,"  said  the  surgeon,  to  my 
horror.  "  A  clever  rogue.  Send  him  to  the  guard- 
house." 

Happy  had  I  been  had  my  ill  luck  ended  here, 
but  as  I  crossed  the  yard  an  officer  stopped  me. 
To  my  disgust,  it  was  the  captain  of  my  old  Rhode 
Island  company. 

"Hello!"  said  he;  "keep  that  fellow  safe.  I 
know  him." 

To  cut  short  a  long  story,  I  was  tried,  convicted, 
and  forced  to  refund  the  Rhode  Island  bounty,  for 
by  ill  luck  they  found  my  bank-book  among  my 


THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A   QUACK         77 

papers.  I  was  finally  sent  to  Fort  Delaware  and 
kept  at  work,  handling  and  carrying  shot,  policing 
the  ground,  picking  up  cigar-stumps,  and  other  light, 
unpleasant  occupations. 

When  the  war  was  over  I  was  released.  I  went 
at  once  to  Boston,  where  I  had  about  four  hundred 
dollars  in  bank.  I  spent  nearly  all  of  this  sum  be- 
fore I  could  satisfy  the  accumulated  cravings  of  a 
year  and  a  half  without  drink  or  tobacco  or  a  de- 
cent meal.  I  was  about  to  engage  in  a  little  busi- 
ness as  a  vender  of  lottery  policies  when  I  first 
began  to  feel  a  strange  sense  of  lassitude,  which 
soon  increased  so  as  quite  to  disable  me  from  work 
of  any  kind.  Month  after  month  passed  away,  while 
my  money  lessened,  and  this  terrible  sense  of  weari- 
ness went  on  from  bad  to  worse.  At  last  one  day, 
after  nearly  a  year  had  elapsed,  I  perceived  on  my 
face  a  large  brown  patch  of  color,  in  consequence  of 
which  I  went  in  some  alarm  to  consult  a  well- 
known  physician.  He  asked  me  a  multitude  of 
tiresome  questions,  and  at  last  wrote  off  a  prescrip- 
tion, which  I  immediately  read.  It  was  a  prepara- 
tion of  arsenic. 

"  What  do  you  think,"  said  I,  "  is  the  matter  with 
me,  doctor? " 

"  I  am  afraid,"  said  he,  "  that  you  have  a  very 
serious  trouble— what  we  call  Addison's  disease." 

"What  's  that?"  said  I. 

"  I  do  not  think  you  would  comprehend  it,"  he 
replied;  "it  is  an  affection  of  the  suprarenal 
capsules." 

I  dimly  remembered  that  there  were  such  organs, 


78        THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF  A   QUACK 

and  that  nobody  knew  what  they  were  meant  for. 
It  seemed  that  doctors  had  found  a  use  for  them  at 
last. 

"  Is  it  a  dangerous  disease  ?  "  I  said. 

"  I  fear  so,"  he  answered. 

"  Don't  you  really  know,"  I  asked,  "  what  's  the 
truth  about  it?" 

"  Well,"  he  returned  gravely,  "  I  'm  sorry  to  tell 
you  it  is  a  very  dangerous  malady." 

"Nonsense!"  said  I;  "I  don't  believe  it";  for  I 
thought  it  was  only  a  doctor's  trick,  and  one  I  had 
tried  often  enough  myself. 

"Thank  you,"  said  he;  "you  are  a  very  ill  man, 
and  a  fool  besides.  Good  morning."  He  forgot 
to  ask  for  a  fee,  and  I  did  not  therefore  find  it 
necessary  to  escape  payment  by  telling  him  I  was 
a  doctor. 

Several  weeks  went  by  ;  my  money  was  gone,  my 
clothes  were  ragged,  and,  like  my  body,  nearly  worn 
out,  and  now  I  am  an  inmate  of  a  hospital.  To-day 
I  feel  weaker  than  when  I  first  began  to  write.  How 
it  will  end,  I  do  not  know.  If  I  die,  the  doctor  will 
get  this  pleasant  history,  and  if  I  live,  I  shall  burn 
it,  and  as  soon  as  I  get  a  little  money  I  will  set  out 
to  look  for  my  sister.  I  dreamed  about  her  last 
night.  What  I  dreamed  was  not  very  agreeable. 
I  thought  it  was  night.  I  was  walking  up  one  of 
the  vilest  streets  near  my  old  office,  and  a  girl  spoke 
to  me — a  shameless,  worn  creature,  with  great  sad 
eyes.  Suddenly  she  screamed,  "  Brother,  brother ! " 
and  then  remembering  what  she  had  been,  with  her 
round,  girlish,  innocent  face  and  fair  hair,  and  seeing 


THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A   QUACK         79 

what  she  was  now,  I  awoke  and  saw  the  dim  light 
of  the  half- darkened  ward. 

I  am  better  to-day.  Writing  all  this  stuff  has 
amused  me  and,  I  think,  done  me  good.  That  was 
a  horrid  dream  I  had.  I  suppose  I  must  tear  up  all 
this  biography. 

"  Hello,  nurse !     The  little  boy— boy— " 

"Good  heavens!"  said  the  nurse,  "he  is  dead! 
Dr.  Alston  said  it  would  happen  this  way.  The 
screen,  quick — the  screen — and  let  the  doctor 
know." 


THE  CASE  OF  GEORGE  DEDLOW 


THE  CASE  OF 
GEORGE  DEDLOW. 

THE  following  notes  of  my  own  case  have  been 
declined  on  various  pretexts  by  every  medical  jour- 
nal to  which  I  have  offered  them.  There  was, 
perhaps,  some  reason  in  this,  because  many  of  the 
medical  facts  which  they  record  are  not  altogether 
new,  and  because  the  psychical  deductions  to  which 
they  have  led  me  are  not  in  themselves  of  medical 
interest.  I  ought  to  add  that  a  great  deal  of  what 
is  here  related  is  not  of  any  scientific  value  whatso- 
ever; but  as  one  or  two  people  on  whose  judgment 
I  rely  have  advised  me  to  print  my  narrative  with 
all  the  personal  details,  rather  than  in  the  dry  shape 
in  which,  as  a  psychological  statement,  I  shall  pub- 
lish it  elsewhere,  I  have  yielded  to  their  views.  I 
suspect,  however,  that  the  very  character  of  my 
record  will,  in  the  eyes  of  some  of  my  readers,  tend 
to  lessen  the  value  of  the  metaphysical  discoveries 
which  it  sets  forth. 

I  am  the  son  of  a  physician,  still  in  large  practice, 

in  the  village  of  Abington,  Scofield  County,  Indiana. 

Expecting  to  act  as  his  future  partner,  I  studied 

medicine  in  his  office,  and  in  1859  and  1860  attended 

83 


84     THE  CASE  OF  GEORGE  DEDLOW 

lectures  at  the  Jefferson  Medical  College  in  Phila- 
delphia. My  second  course  should  have  been  in  the 
following  year,  but  the  outbreak  of  the  Rebellion  so 
crippled  my  father's  means  that  I  was  forced  to 
abandon  my  intention.  The  demand  for  army 
surgeons  at  this  time  became  very  great;  and  al- 
though not  a  graduate,  I  found  no  difficulty  in 
getting  the  place  of  assistant  surgeon  to  the  Tenth 
Indiana  Volunteers.  In  the  subsequent  Western 
campaigns  this  organization  suffered  so  severely  that 
before  the  term  of  its  service  was  over  it  was  merged 
in  the  Twenty-first  Indiana  Volunteers ;  and  I,  as  an 
extra  surgeon,  ranked  by  the  medical  officers  of  the 
latter  regiment,  was  transferred  to  the  Fifteenth 
Indiana  Cavalry.  Like  many  physicians,  I  had  con- 
tracted a  strong  taste  for  army  life,  and,  disliking 
cavalry  service,  sought  and  obtained  the  position  of 
first  lieutenant  in  the  Seventy-ninth  Indiana  Volun- 
teers, an  infantry  regiment  of  excellent  character. 

On  the  day  after  I  assumed  command  of  my 
company,  which  had  no  captain,  we  were  sent  to 
garrison  a  part  of  a  line  of  blockhouses  stretching 
along  the  Cumberland  River  below  Nashville,  then 
occupied  by  a  portion  of  the  command  of  General 
Rosecrans. 

The  life  we  led  while  on  this  duty  was  tedious 
and  at  the  same  time  dangerous  in  the  extreme. 
Food  was  scarce  and  bad,  the  water  horrible,  and 
we  had  no  cavalry  to  forage  for  us.  If,  as  infantry, 
we  attempted  to  levy  supplies  upon  the  scattered 
farms  around  us,  the  population  seemed  suddenly 
to  double,  and  in  the  shape  of  guerrillas  "  potted  " 


THE  CASE  OF  GEORGE  DEDLOW     85 

us  industriously  from  behind  distant  trees,  rocks, 
or  fences.  Under  these  various  and  unpleasant 
influences,  combined  with  a  fair  infusion  of  malaria, 
our  men  rapidly  lost  health  and  spirits.  Unfortu- 
nately, no  proper  medical  supplies  had  been  for- 
warded with  our  small  force  (two  companies),  and, 
as  the  fall  advanced,  the  want  of  quinine  and 
stimulants  became  a  serious  annoyance.  Moreover, 
our  rations  were  running  low;  we  had  been  three 
weeks  without  a  new  supply ;  and  our  commanding 
officer,  Major  Henry  L.  Terrill,  began  to  be  uneasy 
as  to  the  safety  of  his  men.  About  this  time  it 
was  supposed  that  a  train  with  rations  would  be  due 
from  the  post  twenty  miles  to  the  north  of  us ;  yet 
it  was  quite  possible  that  it  would  bring  us  food, 
but  no  medicines,  which  were  what  we  most  needed. 
The  command  was  too  small  to  detach  any  part  of 
it,  and  the  major  therefore  resolved  to  send  an  officer 
alone  to  the  post  above  us,  where  the  rest  of  the 
Seventy-ninth  lay,  and  whence  they  could  easily 
forward  quinine  and  stimulants  by  the  train,  if  it 
had  not  left,  or,  if  it  had,  by  a  small  cavalry  escort. 
It  so  happened,  to  my  cost,  as  it  turned  out,  that 
I  was  the  only  officer  fit  to  make  the  journey,  and 
I  was  accordingly  ordered  to  proceed  to  Blockhouse 
No.  3  and  make  the  required  arrangements.  I 
started  alone  just  after  dusk  the  next  night,  and 
during  the  darkness  succeeded  in  getting  within 
three  miles  of  my  destination.  At  this  time  I  found 
that  I  had  lost  my  way,  and,  although  aware  of  the 
danger  of  my  act,  was  forced  to  turn  aside  and  ask 
at  a  log  cabin  for  directions.  The  house  contained 


86     THE  CASE  OF  GEORGE  DEDLOW 

a  dried-up  old  woman  and  four  white-headed,  half- 
naked  children.  The  woman  was  either  stone-deaf 
or  pretended  to  be  so ;  but,  at  all  events,  she  gave 
me  no  satisfaction,  and  I  remounted  and  rode  away. 
On  coming  to  the  end  of  a  lane,  into  which  I  had 
turned  to  seek  the  cabin,  I  found  to  my  surprise  that 
the  bars  had  been  put  up  during  my  brief  parley. 
They  were  too  high  to  leap,  and  I  therefore  dis- 
mounted to  pull  them  down.  As  I  touched  the  top 
rail,  I  heard  a  rifle,  and  at  the  same  instant  felt  a 
blow  on  both  arms,  which  fell  helpless.  I  staggered 
to  my  horse  and  tried  to  mount;  but,  as  I  could 
use  neither  arm,  the  effort  was  vain,  and  I  therefore 
stood  still,  awaiting  my  fate.  I  am  only  conscious 
that  I  saw  about  me  several  graybacks,  for  I  must 
have  fallen  fainting  almost  immediately. 

When  I  awoke  I  was  lying  in  the  cabin  near  by, 
upon  a  pile  of  rubbish.  Ten  or  twelve  guerrillas 
were  gathered  about  the  fire,  apparently  drawing 
lots  for  my  watch,  boots,  hat,  etc.  I  now  made  an 
effort  to  find  out  how  far  I  was  hurt.  I  discovered 
that  I  could  use  the  left  forearm  and  hand  pretty 
well,  and  with  this  hand  I  felt  the  right  limb  all 
over  until  I  touched  the  wound.  The  ball  had 
passed  from  left  to  right  through  the  left  biceps,  and 
directly  through  the  right  arm  just  below  the  shoul- 
der, emerging  behind.  The  right  arm  and  forearm 
were  cold  and  perfectly  insensible.  I  pinched  them 
as  well  as  I  could,  to  test  the  amount  of  sensation 
remaining;  but  the  hand  might  as  well  have  been 
that  of  a  dead  man.  I  began  to  understand  that 
the  nerves  had  been  wounded,  and  that  the  part 


THE  CASE  OF  GEORGE  DEDLOW     87 

was  utterly  powerless.  By  this  time  my  friends 
had  pretty  well  divided  the  spoils,  and,  rising  to- 
gether, went  out.  The  old  woman  then  came  to 
me,  and  said :  "  Reckon  you  'd  best  git  up.  They- 
'uns  is  a-goin'  to  take  you  away."  To  this  I  only 
answered,  "  Water,  water."  I  had  a  grim  sense  of 
amusement  on  finding  that  the  old  woman  was  not 
deaf,  for  she  went  out,  and  presently  came  back 
with  a  gourdful,  which  I  eagerly  drank.  An  hour 
later  the  graybacks  returned,  and  finding  that  I  was 
too  weak  to  walk,  carried  me  out  and  laid  me  on  the 
bottom  of  a  common  cart,  with  which  they  set  off  on 
a  trot.  The  jolting  was  horrible,  but  within  an  hour 
I  began  to  have  in  my  dead  right  hand  a  strange 
burning,  which  was  rather  a  relief  to  me.  It  in- 
creased as  the  sun  rose  and  the  day  grew  warm, 
until  I  felt  as  if  the  hand  was  caught  and  pinched 
in  a  red-hot  vise.  Then  in  my  agony  I  begged 
my  guard  for  water  to  wet  it  with,  but  for  some 
reason  they  desired  silence,  and  at  every  noise 
threatened  me  with  a  revolver.  At  length  the  pain 
became  absolutely  unendurable,  and  I  grew  what  it 
is  the  fashion  to  call  demoralized.  I  screamed, 
cried,  and  yelled  in  my  torture,  until,  as  I  suppose, 
my  captors  became  alarmed,  and,  stopping,  gave  me 
a  handkerchief, — my  own,  I  fancy, — and  a  canteen 
of  water,  with  which  I  wetted  the  hand,  to  my  un- 
speakable relief. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  detail  the  events  by  which, 
finally,  I  found  myself  in  one  of  the  rebel  hospitals 
near  Atlanta.  Here,  for  the  first  time,  my  wounds 
were  properly  cleansed  and  dressed  by  a  Dr.  Oliver 


88  THE  CASE  OF   GEORGE  DEDLOW 

T.  Wilson,  who  treated  me  throughout  with  great 
kindness.  I  told  him  I  had  been  a  doctor,  which, 
perhaps,  may  have  been  in  part  the  cause  of  the 
unusual  tenderness  with  which  I  was  managed.  The 
left  arm  was  now  quite  easy,  although,  as  will  be 
seen,  it  never  entirely  healed.  The  right  arm  was 
worse  than  ever — the  humerus  broken,  the  nerves 
wounded,  and  the  hand  alive  only  to  pain.  I  use 
this  phrase  because  it  is  connected  in  my  mind  with 
a  visit  from  a  local  visitor, — I  am  not  sure  he  was  a 
preacher, — who  used  to  go  daily  through  the  wards, 
and  talk  to  us  or  write  our  letters.  One  morning 
he  stopped  at  my  bed,  when  this  little  talk  occurred : 

"  How  are  you,  lieutenant?  " 

"  Oh,"  said  I,  "  as  usual.  All  right  but  this 
hand,  which  is  dead  except  to  pain." 

"  Ah,"  said  he,  "  such  and  thus  will  the  wicked 
be — such  will  you  be  if  you  die  in  your  sins :  you 
will  go  where  only  pain  can  be  felt.  For  all  eter- 
nity, all  of  you  will  be  just  like  that  hand — knowing 
pain  only." 

I  suppose  I  was  very  weak,  but  somehow  I  felt  a 
sudden  and  chilling  horror  of  possible  universal  pain, 
and  suddenly  fainted.  When  I  awoke  the  hand  was 
worse,  if  that  could  be.  It  was  red,  shining,  aching, 
burning,  and,  as  it  seemed  to  me,  perpetually  rasped 
with  hot  files.  When  the  doctor  came  I  begged 
for  morphia.  He  said  gravely :  "  We  have  none. 
You  know  you  don't  allow  it  to  pass  the  lines."  It 
was  sadly  true. 

I  turned  to  the  wall,  and  wetted  the  hand  again, 
my  sole  relief.  In  about  an  hour  Dr.  Wilson  came 


THE  CASE  OF  GEORGE  DEDLOW     89 

back  with  two  aids,  and  explained  to  me  that  the 
bone  was  so  crushed  as  to  make  it  hopeless  to  save 
it,  and  that,  besides,  amputation  offered  some  chance 
of  arresting  the  pain.  I  had  thought  of  this  before, 
and  the  anguish  I  felt — I  cannot  say  endured — was 
so  awful  that  I  made  no  more  of  losing  the  limb  than 
of  parting  with  a  tooth  on  account  of  toothache. 
Accordingly,  brief  preparations  were  made,  which  I 
watched  with  a  sort  of  eagerness  such  as  must  for- 
ever be  inexplicable  to  any  one  who  has  not 
passed  six  weeks  of  torture  like  that  which  I  had 
suffered. 

I  had  but  one  pang  before  the  operation.  As  I 
arranged  myself  on  the  left  side,  so  as  to  make  it 
convenient  for  the  operator  to  use  the  knife,  I  asked : 
"  Who  is  to  give  me  the  ether  ?  "  "  We  have  none," 
said  the  person  questioned.  I  set  my  teeth,  and 
said  no  more. 

I  need  not  describe  the  operation.  The  pain  felt 
was  severe,  but  it  was  insignificant  as  compared 
with  that  of  any  other  minute  of  the  past  six  weeks. 
The  limb  was  removed  very  near  to  the  shoulder- 
joint.  As  the  second  incision  was  made,  I  felt  a 
strange  flash  of  pain  play  through  the  limb,  as  if  it 
were  in  every  minutest  fibril  of  nerve.  This  was 
followed  by  instant,  unspeakable  relief,  and  before 
the  flaps  were  brought  together  I  was  sound  asleep. 
I  dimly  remember  saying,  as  I  pointed  to  the  arm 
which  lay  on  the  floor :  "  There  is  the  pain,  and 
here  am  I.  How  queer!"  Then  I  slept — slept  the 
sleep  of  the  just,  or,  better,  of  the  painless.  From 
this  time  forward  I  was  free  from  neuralgia.  At 


90     THE  CASE  OF  GEORGE  DEDLOW 

a  subsequent  period  I  saw  a  number  of  cases  sim- 
ilar to  mine  in  a  hospital  in  Philadelphia. 

It  is  no  part  of  my  plan  to  detail  my  weary 
months  of  monotonous  prison  life  in  the  South.  In 
the  early  part  of  April,  1863,  I  was  exchanged,  and 
after  the  usual  thirty  days'  furlough  returned  to  my 
regiment  a  captain. 

On  the  1 9th  of  September,  1863,  occurred  the 
battle  of  Chickamauga,  in  which  my  regiment  took 
a  conspicuous  part.  The  close  of  our  own  share  in 
this  contest  is,  as  it  were,  burned  into  my  memory 
with  every  least  detail.  It  was  about  6  P.M.,  when 
we  found  ourselves  in  line,  under  cover  of  a  long, 
thin  row  of  scrubby  trees,  beyond  which  lay  a 
gentle  slope,  from  which,  again,  rose  a  hill  rather 
more  abrupt,  and  crowned  with  an  earthwork.  We 
received  orders  to  cross  this  space  and  take  the  fort 
in  front,  while  a  brigade  on  our  right  was  to  make 
a  like  movement  on  its  flank. 

Just  before  we  emerged  into  the  open  ground, 
we  noticed  what,  I  think,  was  common  in  many 
fights — that  the  enemy  had  begun  to  bowl  round 
shot  at  us,  probably  from  failure  of  shell.  We 
passed  across  the  valley  in  good  order,  although  the 
men  fell  rapidly  all  along  the  line.  As  we  climbed 
the  hill,  our  pace  slackened,  and  the  fire  grew  heavier. 
At  this  moment  a  battery  opened  on  our  left,  the 
shots  crossing  our  heads  obliquely.  It  is  this  mo- 
ment which  is  so  printed  on  my  recollection.  I  can 
see  now,  as  if  through  a  window,  the  gray  smoke, 
lit  with  red  flashes,  the  long,  wavering  line,  the  sky 
blue  above,  the  trodden  furrows,  blotted  with  blue 


THE  CASE  OF  GEORGE  DEDLOW     91 

blouses.  Then  it  was  as  if  the  window  closed,  and 
I  knew  and  saw  no  more.  No  other  scene  in  my 
life  is  thus  scarred,  if  I  may  say  so,  into  my  memory. 
I  have  a  fancy  that  the  horrible  shock  which  sud- 
denly fell  upon  me  must  have  had  something  to  do 
with  thus  intensifying  the  momentary  image  then 
before  my  eyes. 

When  I  awakened,  I  was  lying  under  a  tree  some- 
where at  the  rear.  The  ground  was  covered  with 
wounded,  and  the  doctors  were  busy  at  an  operat- 
ing-table, improvised  from  two  barrels  and  a  plank. 
At  length  two  of  them  who  were  examining  the 
wounded  about  me  came  up  to  where  1^  lay.  A 
hospital  steward  raised  my  head  and  poured  down 
some  brandy  and  water,  while  another  cut  loose 
my  pantaloons.  The  doctors  exchanged  looks  and 
walked  away.  I  asked  the  steward  where  I  was 
hit. 

"Both  thighs,"  said  he;  "the  doctors  won't  do 
nothing." 

"  No  use?  "  said  I. 

"  Not  much,"  said  he/ 

"  Not  much  means  none  at  all,"  I  answered. 

When  he  had  gone  I  set  myself  to  thinking  about 
a  good  many  things  I  had  better  have  thought  of 
before,  but  which  in  no  way  concern  the  history  of 
my  case.  A  half-hour  went  by.  I  had  no  pain, 
and  did  not  get  weaker.  At  last,  I  cannot  explain 
why,  I  began  to  look  about  me.  At  first  things 
appeared  a  little  hazy.  I  remember  one  thing  which 
thrilled  me  a  little,  even  then. 

A  tall,  blond-bearded  major  walked  up  to  a  doc- 


92  THE   CASE   OF   GEORGE  DEDLOW 

tor  near  me,  saying,  "  When  you  've  a  little  leisure, 
just  take  a  look  at  my  side." 

"  Do  it  now,"  said  the  doctor. 

The  officer  exposed  his  wound.  "  Ball  went  in 
here,  and  out  there." 

The  doctor  looked  up  at  him — half  pity,  half 
amazement.  "  If  you  've  got  any  message,  you  'd 
best  send  it  by  me." 

"Why,  you  don't  say  it  's  serious?"  was  the 
reply. 

"Serious!  Why,  you  're  shot  through  the 
stomach.  You  won't  live  over  the  day." 

Then  the  man  did  what  struck  me  as  a  very  odd 
thing.  He  said,  "Anybody  got  a  pipe?"  Some 
one  gave  him  a  pipe.  He  filled  it  deliberately, 
struck  a  light  with  a  flint,  and  sat  down  against  a 
tree  near  to  me.  Presently  the  doctor  came  to  him 
again,  and  asked  him  what  he  could  do  for  him. 

"  Send  me  a  drink  of  Bourbon." 

"  Anything  else  ?  " 

"  No." 

As  the  doctor  left  him,  he  called  him  back.  "  It 's 
a  little  rough,  doc,  is  n't  it?" 

No  more  passed,  and  I  saw  this  man  no  longer. 
Another  set  of  doctors  were  handling  my  legs,  for 
the  first  time  causing  pain.  A  moment  after,  a 
steward  put  a  towel  over  my  mouth,  and  I  smelled 
the  familiar  odor  of  chloroform,  which  I  was  glad 
enough  to  breathe.  In  a  moment  the  trees  began 
to  move  around  from  left  to  right,  faster  and  faster ; 
then  a  universal  grayness  came  before  me,  and  I 
recall  nothing  further  until  I  awoke  to  consciousness 


THE  CASE  OF  GEORGE  DEDLOW 


93 


in  a  hospital-tent.  I  got  hold  of  my  own  identity 
in  a  moment  or  two,  and  was  suddenly  aware  of  a 
sharp  cramp  in  my  left  leg.  I  tried  to  get  at  it  to 
rub  it  with  my  single  arm,  but,  finding  myself  too 
weak,  hailed  an  attendant.  "  Just  rub  my  left  calf," 
said  I,  "  if  you  please." 

"  Calf?"  said  he.  "You  ain't  none.  It  's  took 
off." 

"  I  know  better,"  said  I.  "  I  have  pain  in  both 
legs." 

"Wall,  I  never!"  said  he.  "You  ain't  got  nary 
leg." 

As  I  did  not  believe  him,  he  threw  off  the  covers, 
and,  to  my  horror,  showed  me  that  I  had  suffered 
amputation  of  both  thighs,  very  high  up. 

"  That  will  do,"  said  I,  faintly. 

A  month  later,  to  the  amazement  of  every  one,  I 
was  so  well  as  to  be  moved  from  the  crowded  hos- 
pital at  Chattanooga  to  Nashville,  where  I  filled 
one  of  the  ten  thousand  beds  of  that  vast  metropolis 
of  hospitals.  Of  the  sufferings  which  then  began  I 
shall  presently  speak.  It  will  be  best  just  now  to 
detail  the  final  misfortune  which  here  fell  upon  me. 
Hospital  No.  2,  in  which  I  lay,  was  inconveniently 
crowded  with  severely  wounded  officers.  After  my 
third  week  an  epidemic  of  hospital  gangrene  broke 
out  in  my  ward.  In  three  days  it  attacked  twenty 
persons.  Then  an  inspector  came,  and  we  were 
transferred  at  once  to  the  open  air,  and  placed  in 
tents.  Strangely  enough,  the  wound  in  my  re- 
maining arm,  which  still  suppurated,  was  seized  with 
gangrene.  The  usual  remedy,  bromine,  was  used 


94  THE   CASE   OF   GEORGE   DEDLOW 

locally,  but  the  main  artery  opened,  was  tied,  bled 
again  and  again,  and  at  last,  as  a  final  resort,  the 
remaining  arm  was  amputated  at  the  shoulder-joint. 
Against  all  chances  I  recovered,  to  find  myself  a 
useless  torso,  more  like  some  strange  larval  creature 
than  anything  of  human  shape.  Of  my  anguish  and 
horror  of  myself  I  dare  not  speak.  I  have  dictated 
these  pages,  not  to  shock  my  readers,  but  to  possess 
them  with  facts  in  regard  to  the  relation  of  the  mind 
to  the  body ;  and  I  hasten,  therefore,  to  such  por- 
tions of  my  case  as  best  illustrate  these  views. 

In  January,  1864,  I  was  forwarded  to  Philadel- 
phia, in  order  to  enter  what  was  known  as  the  Stump 
Hospital,  South  Street,  then  in  charge  of  Dr.  Hop- 
kinson.  This  favor  was  obtained  through  the  in- 
fluence of  my  father's  friend,  the  late  Governor 
Anderson,  who  had  always  manifested  an  interest  in 
my  case,  for  which  I  am  deeply  grateful.  It  was 
thought,  at  the  time,  that  Mr.  Palmer,  the  leg-maker, 
might  be  able  to  adapt  some  form  of  arm  to  my  left 
shoulder,  as  on  that  side  there  remained  five  inches 
of  the  arm-bone,  which  I  could  move  to  a  moderate 
extent.  The  hope  proved  illusory,  as  the  stump 
was  always  too  tender  to  bear  any  pressure.  The 
hospital  referred  to  was  in  charge  of  several  surgeons 
while  I  was  an  inmate,  and  was  at  all  times  a  clean 
and  pleasant  home.  It  was  filled  with  men  who  had 
lost  one  arm  or  leg,  or  one  of  each,  as  happened  now 
and  then.  I  saw  one  man  who  had  lost  both  legs, 
and  one  who  had  parted  with  both  arms ;  but  none, 
like  myself,  stripped  of  every  limb.  There  were 
collected  in  this  place  hundreds  of  these  cases, 


THE  CASE  OF  GEORGE  DEDLOW     9*5 

which  gave  to  it,  with  reason  enough,  the  not  very 
pleasing  title  of  Stump  Hospital. 

I  spent  here  three  and  a  half  months,  before  my 
transfer  to  the  United  States  Army  Hospital  for 
Injuries  and  Diseases  of  the  Nervous  System. 
Every  morning  I  was  carried  out  in  an  arm-chair 
and  placed  in  the  library,  where  some  one  was 
always  ready  to  write  or  read  for  me,  or  to  fill  my 
pipe.  The  doctors  lent  me  medical  books ;  the  ladies 
brought  me  luxuries  and  fed  me ;  and,  save  that  I 
was  helpless  to  a  degree  which  was  humiliating,  I 
was  as  comfortable  as  kindness  could  make  me. 

I  amused  myself  at  this  time  by  noting  in  my 
mind  all  that  I  could  learn  from  other  limbless  folk, 
and  from  myself,  as  to  the  peculiar  feelings  which 
were  noticed  in  regard  to  lost  members.  I  found 
that  the  great  mass  of  men  who  had  undergone 
amputations  for  many  months  felt  the  usual  con- 
sciousness that  they  still  had  the  lost  limb.  It 
itched  or  pained,  or  was  cramped,  but  never  felt  hot 
or  cold.  If  they  had  painful  sensations  referred  to 
it,  the  conviction  of  its  existence  continued  unaltered 
for  long  periods ;  but  where  no  pain  was  felt  in  it, 
then  by  degrees  the  sense  of  having  that  limb  faded 
away  entirely.  I  think  we  may  to  some  extent  ex- 
plain this.  The  knowledge  we  possess  of  any  part 
is  made  up  of  the  numberless  impressions  from  with- 
out which  affect  its  sensitive  surfaces,  and  which  are 
transmitted  through  its  nerves  to  the  spinal  nerve- 
cells,  and  through  them,  again,  to  the  brain.  We 
are  thus  kept  endlessly  informed  as  to  the  existence 
of  parts,  because  the  impressions  which  reach  the 


96     THE  CASE  OF  GEORGE  DEDLOW 

brain  are,  by  a  law  of  our  being,  referred  by  us  to 
the  part  from  which  they  come.  Now,  when  the 
part  is  cut  off,  the  nerve-trunks  which  led  to  it  and 
from  it,  remaining  capable  of  being  impressed  by 
irritations,  are  made  to  convey  to  the  brain  from  the 
stump  impressions  which  are,  as  usual,  referred  by 
the  brain  to  the  lost  parts  to  which  these  nerve- 
threads  belonged.  In  other  words,  the  nerve  is  like 
a  bell-wire.  You  may  pull  it  at  any  part  of  its 
course,  and  thus  ring  the  bell  as  well  as  if  you  pulled 
at  the  end  of  the  wire ;  but,  in  any  case,  the  intel- 
ligent servant  will  refer  the  pull  to  the  front  door, 
and  obey  it  accordingly.  The  impressions  made  on 
the  severed  ends  of  the  nerve  are  due  often  to 
changes  in  the  stump  during  healing,  and  conse- 
quently cease  when  it  has  healed,  so  that  finally,  in 
a  very  healthy  stump,  no  such  impressions  arise ; 
the  brain  ceases  to  correspond  with  the  lost  leg, 
and,  as  les  absents  ont  toujours  tort,  it  is  no  longer 
remembered  or  recognized.  But  in  some  cases, 
such  as  mine  proved  at  last  to  my  sorrow,  the  ends 
of  the  nerves  undergo  a  curious  alteration,  and  get 
to  be  enlarged  and  altered.  This  change,  as  I  have 
seen  in  my  practice  of  medicine,  sometimes  passes 
up  the  nerves  toward  the  centers,  and  occasions  a 
more  or  less  constant  irritation  of  the  nerve- fibers, 
producing  neuralgia,  which  is  usually  referred  by 
the  brain  to  that  part  of  the  lost  limb  to  which  the 
affected  nerve  belonged.  This  pain  keeps  the  brain 
ever  mindful  of  the  missing  part,  and,  imperfectly 
at  least,  preserves  to  the  man  a  consciousness  of 
possessing  that  which  he  has  not. 


THE  CASE  OF  GEORGE  DEDLOW     97 

Where  the  pains  come  and  go,  as  they  do  in  cer- 
tain cases,  the  subjective  sensations  thus  occasioned 
are  very  curious,  since  in  such  cases  the  man  loses 
and  gains,  and  loses  and  regains,  the  consciousness 
of  the  presence  of  the  lost  parts,  so  that  he  will  tell 
you,  "  Now  I  feel  my  thumb,  now  I  feel  my  little 
finger."  I  should  also  add  that  nearly  every  person 
who  has  lost  an  arm  above  the  elbow  feels  as 
though  the  lost  member  were  bent  at  the  elbow, 
and  at  times  is  vividly  impressed  with  the  notion 
that  his  fingers  are  strongly  flexed. 

Other  persons  present  a  peculiarity  which  I  am  at 
a  loss  to  account  for.  Where  the  leg,  for  instance, 
has  been  lost,  they  feel  as  if  the  foot  were  present, 
but  as  though  the  leg  were  shortened.  Thus,  if  the 
thigh  has  been  taken  off,  there  seems  to  them  to 
be  a  foot  at  the  knee ;  if  the  arm,  a  hand  seems  to 
be  at  the  elbow,  or  attached  to  the  stump  itself. 

Before  leaving  Nashville  I  had  begun  to  suffer 
the  most  acute  pain  in  my  left  hand,  especially  the 
little  finger ;  and  so  perfect  was  the  idea  which  was 
thus  kept  up  of  the  real  presence  of  these  missing 
parts  that  I  found  it  hard  at  times  to  believe  them 
absent.  Often  at  night  I  would  try  with  one  lost 
hand  to  grope  for  the  other.  As,  however,  I  had 
no  pain  in  the  right  arm,  the  sense  of  the  existence 
of  that  limb  gradually  disappeared,  as  did  that  of 
my  legs  also. 

Everything  was  done  for  my  neuralgia  which  the 
doctors  could  think  of;  and  at  length,  at  my  sug- 
gestion, I  was  removed,  as  I  have  said,  from  the 
Stump  Hospital  to  the  United  States  Army  Hos- 


98  THE  CASE  OF   GEORGE  DEDLOW 

pital  for  Injuries  and  Diseases  of  the  Nervous  Sys- 
tem. It  was  a  pleasant,  suburban,  old-fashioned 
country-seat,  its  gardens  surrounded  by  a  circle  of 
wooden,  one-story  wards,  shaded  by  fine  trees. 
There  were  some  three  hundred  cases  of  epilepsy, 
paralysis,  St.  Vitus's  dance,  and  wounds  of  nerves. 
On  one  side  of  me  lay  a  poor  fellow,  a  Dane,  who 
had  the  same  burning  neuralgia  with  which  I  once 
suffered,  and  which  I  now  learned  was  only  too  com- 
mon. This  man  had  become  hysterical  from  pain. 
He  carried  a  sponge  in  his  pocket,  and  a  bottle  of 
water  in  one  hand,  with  which  he  constantly  wetted 
the  burning  hand.  Every  sound  increased  his  tor- 
ture, and  he  even  poured  water  into  his  boots  to 
keep  himself  from  feeling  too  sensibly  the  rough 
friction  of  his  soles  when  walking.  Like  him,  I  was 
greatly  eased  by  having  small  doses  of  morphia  in- 
jected under  the  skin  of  my  shoulder  with  a  hollow 
needle  fitted  to  a  syringe. 

As  I  improved  under  the  morphia  treatment,  I 
began  to  be  disturbed  by  the  horrible  variety  of 
suffering  about  me.  One  man  walked  sideways; 
there  was  one  who  could  not  smell ;  another  was 
dumb  from  an  explosion.  In  fact,  every  one  had 
his  own  abnormal  peculiarity.  Near  me  was  a 
strange  case  of  palsy  of  the  muscles  called  rhom- 
boids, whose  office  it  is  to  hold  down  the  shoulder- 
blades  flat  on  the  back  during  the  motions  of  the 
arms,  which,  in  themselves,  were  strong  enough. 
When,  however,  he  lifted  these  members,  the  shoul- 
der-blades stood  out  from  the  back  like  wings,  and 
got  him  the  sobriquet  of  the  "  Angel."  In  my  ward 


THE  CASE  OF  GEORGE  DEDLOW     99 

were  also  the  cases  of  fits,  which  very  much  annoyed 
me,  as  upon  any  great  change  in  the  weather  it  was 
common  to  have  a  dozen  convulsions  in  view  at 
once.  Dr.  Neek,  one  of  our  physicians,  told  me 
that  on  one  occasion  a  hundred  and  fifty  fits  took 
place  within  thirty-six  hours.  On  my  complaining 
of  these  sights,  whence  I  alone  could  not  fly,  I  was 
placed  in  the  paralytic  and  wound  ward,  which  I 
found  much  more  pleasant. 

A  month  of  skilful  treatment  eased  me  entirely 
of  my  aches,  and  I  then  began  to  experience  certain 
curious  feelings,  upon  which,  having  nothing  to  do 
and  nothing  to  do  anything  with,  I  reflected  a  good 
deal.  It  was  a  good  while  before  I  could  correctly 
explain  to  my  own  satisfaction  the  phenomena  which 
at  this  time  I  was  called  upon  to  observe.  By  the 
various  operations  already  described  I  had  lost  about 
four  fifths  of  my  weight.  As  a  consequence  of  this 
I  ate  much  less  than  usual,  and  could  scarcely  have 
consumed  the  ration  of  a  soldier.  I  slept  also  but 
little ;  for,  as  sleep  is  the  repose  of  the  brain,  made 
necessary  by  the  waste  of  its  tissues  during  thought 
and  voluntary  movement,  and  as  this  latter  did  not 
exist  in  my  case,  I  needed  only  that  rest  which  was 
necessary  to  repair  such  exhaustion  of  the  nerve- 
centers  as  was  induced  by  thinking  and  the  auto- 
matic movements  of  the  viscera. 

I  observed  at  this  time  also  that  my  heart,  in 
place  of  beating,  as  it  once  did,  seventy-eight  in  the 
minute,  pulsated  only  forty-five  times  in  this  inter- 
val— a  fact  to  be  easily  explained  by  the  perfect 
quiescence  to  which  I  was  reduced,  and  the  conse- 


100         THE  CASE   OF   GEORGE   DEDLOW 

quent  absence  of  that  healthy  and  constant  stimulus 
to  the  muscles  of  the  heart  which  exercise  occasions. 

Notwithstanding  these  drawbacks,  my  physical 
health  was  good,  which,  I  confess,  surprised  me,  for 
this  among  other  reasons :  It  is  said  that  a  burn  of 
two  thirds  of  the  surface  destroys  life,  because  then 
all  the  excretory  matters  which  this  portion  of  the 
glands  of  the  skin  evolved  are  thrown  upon  the 
blood,  and  poison  the  man,  just  as  happens  in  an 
animal  whose  skin  the  physiologist  has  varnished, 
so  as  in  this  way  to  destroy  its  function.  Yet  here 
was  I,  having  lost  at  least  a  third  of  my  skin,  and 
apparently  none  the  worse  for  it. 

Still  more  remarkable,  however,  were  the  psychi- 
cal changes  which  I  now  began  to  perceive.  I 
found  to  my  horror  that  at  times  I  was  less  conscious 
of  myself,  of  my  own  existence,  than  used  to  be  the 
case.  This  sensation  was  so  novel  that  at  first  it 
quite  bewildered  me.  I  felt  like  asking  some  one 
constantly  if  I  were  really  George  Dedlow  or  not ; 
but,  well  aware  how  absurd  I  should  seem  after 
such  a  question,  I  refrained  from  speaking  of  my 
case,  and  strove  more  keenly  to  analyze  my  feelings. 
At  times  the  conviction  of  my  want  of  being  myself 
was  overwhelming  and  most  painful.  It  was,  as 
well  as  I  can  describe  it,  a  deficiency  in  the  egoistic 
sentiment  of  individuality.  About  one  half  of  the 
sensitive  surface  of  my  skin  was  gone,  and  thus 
much  of  relation  to  the  outer  world  destroyed.  As 
a  consequence,  a  large  part  of  the  receptive  central 
organs  must  be  out  of  employ,  and,  like  other  idle 
things,  degenerating  rapidly.  Moreover,  all  the 


THE   CASE   OF   GEORGE   DEDLOW          IOI 

great  central  ganglia,  which  give  rise  to  movements 
in  the  limbs,  were  also  eternally  at  rest.  Thus  one 
half  of  me  was  absent  or  functionally  dead.  This 
set  me  to  thinking  how  much  a  man  might  lose  and 
yet  live.  If  I  were  unhappy  enough  to  survive,  I 
might  part  with  my  spleen  at  least,  as  many  a  dog 
has  done,  and  grow  fat  afterwards.  The  other 
organs  with  which  we  breathe  and  circulate  the 
blood  would  be  essential;  so  also  would  the  liver; 
but  at  least  half  of  the  intestines  might  be  dispensed 
with,  and  of  course  all  of  the  limbs.  And  as  to  the 
nervous  system,  the  only  parts  really  necessary  to 
life  are  a  few  small  ganglia.  Were  the  rest  absent 
or  inactive,  we  should  have  a  man  reduced,  as  it 
were,  to  the  lowest  terms,  and  leading  an  almost 
vegetative  existence.  Would  such  a  being,  I  asked 
myself,  possess  the  sense  of  individuality  in  its  usual 
completeness,  even  if  his  organs  of  sensation  re- 
mained, and  he  were  capable  of  consciousness  ?  Of 
course,  without  them,  he  could  not  have  it  any  more 
than  a  dahlia  or  a  tulip.  But  with  them — how  then  ? 
I  concluded  that  it  would  be  at  a  minimum,  and 
that,  if  utter  loss  of  relation  to  the  outer  world  were 
capable  of  destroying  a  man's  consciousness  of  him- 
self, the  destruction  of  half  of  his  sensitive  surfaces 
might  well  occasion,  in  a  less  degree,  a  like  result, 
and  so  diminish  his  sense  of  individual  existence. 

I  thus  reached  the  conclusion  that  a  man  is  not 
his  brain,  or  any  one  part  of  it,  but  all  of  his  economy, 
and  that  to  lose  any  part  must  lessen  this  sense  of 
his  own  existence.  I  found  but  one  person  who 
properly  appreciated  this  great  truth.  She  was  a 


102          THE   CASE   OF   GEORGE   DEDLOW 

New  England  lady,  from  Hartford — an  agent,  I 
think,  for  some  commission,  perhaps  the  Sanitary. 
After  I  had  told  her  my  views  and  feelings,  she 
said :  "  Yes,  I  comprehend.  The  fractional  entities 
of  vitality  are  embraced  in  the  oneness  of  the  uni- 
tary Ego.  Life,"  she  added,  "  is  the  garnered 
condensation  of  objective  impressions ;  and  as  the 
objective  is  the  remote  father  of  the  subjective,  so 
must  individuality,  which  is  but  focused  subjectivity, 
suffer  and  fade  when  the  sensation  lenses,  by  which 
the  rays  of  impression  are  condensed,  become  de- 
stroyed." I  am  not  quite  clear  that  I  fully  under- 
stood her,  but  I  think  she  appreciated  my  ideas,  and 
I  felt  grateful  for  her  kindly  interest. 

The  strange  want  I  have  spoken  of  now  haunted 
and  perplexed  me  so  constantly  that  I  became 
moody  and  wretched.  While  in  this  state,  a  man 
from  a  neighboring  ward  fell  one  morning  into  con- 
versation with  the  chaplain,  within  ear-shot  of  my 
chair.  Some  of  their  words  arrested  my  attention, 
and  I  turned  my  head  to  see  and  listen.  The 
speaker,  who  wore  a  sergeant's  chevron  and  carried 
one  arm  in  a  sling,  was  a  tall,  loosely  made  person, 
with  a  pale  face,  light  eyes  of  a  washed-out  blue 
tint,  and  very  sparse  yellow  whiskers.  His  mouth 
was  weak,  both  lips  being  almost  alike,  so  that  the 
organ  might  have  been  turned  upside  down  without 
affecting  its  expression.  His  forehead,  however, 
was  high  and  thinly  covered  with  sandy  hair.  I 
should  have  said,  as  a  phrenologist,  will  feeble ; 
emotional,  but  not  passionate ;  likely  to  be  an  enthu- 
siast or  a  weakly  bigot. 


THE  CASE   OF   GEORGE   DEDLOW          103 

I  caught  enough  of  what  passed  to  make  me  call 
to  the  sergeant  when  the  chaplain  left  him. 

"  Good  morning,"  said  he.  "  How  do  you  get 
on?  " 

"  Not  at  all,"  I  replied.     "  Where  were  you  hit?  " 

"Oh,  at  Chancellorsville.  I  was  shot  in  the 
shoulder.  I  have  what  the  doctors  call  paralysis  of 
the  median  nerve,  but  I  guess  Dr.  Neek  and  the 
lightnin'  battery  will  fix  it.  When  my  time  's  out 
I  '11  go  back  to  Kearsarge  and  try  on  the  school- 
teaching  again.  I  've  done  my  share." 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  you  're  better  off  than  I." 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  "in  more  ways  than  one. 
I  belong  to  the  New  Church.  It  's  a  great  comfort 
for  a  plain  man  like  me,  when  he  's  weary  and  sick, 
to  be  able  to  turn  away  from  earthly  things  and  hold 
converse  daily  with  the  great  and  good  who  have 
left  this  here  world.  We  have  a  circle  in  Coates 
Street.  If  it  wa'n't  for  the  consoling  I  get  there, 
I  'd  of  wished  myself  dead  many  a  time.  I  ain't 
got  kith  or  kin  on  earth ;  but  this  matters  little, 
when  one  can  just  talk  to  them  daily  and  know  that 
they  are  in  the  spheres  above  us." 

"  It  must  be  a  great  comfort,"  I  replied,  "  if  only 
one  could  believe  it." 

"Believe!"  he  repeated.  "How  can  you  help 
it?  Do  you  suppose  anything  dies?" 

"No,"  I  said.  "The  soul  does  not,  I  am  sure; 
and  as  to  matter,  it  merely  changes  form." 

"  But  why,  then,"  said  he,  "  should  not  the  dead 
soul  talk  to  the  living?  In  space,  no  doubt,  exist 
all  forms  of  matter,  merely  in  finer,  more  ethereal 


104          THE   CASE   OF   GEORGE   DEDLOW 

being.  You  can't  suppose  a  naked  soul  moving 
about  without  a  bodily  garment— no  creed  teaches 
that ;  and  if  its  new  clothing  be  of  like  substance  to 
ours,  only  of  ethereal  fineness, — a  more  delicate  re- 
crystallization  about  the  eternal  spiritual  nucleus, — 
must  it  not  then  possess  powers  as  much  more  deli- 
cate and  refined  as  is  the  new  material  in  which  it 
is  reclad?  " 

"  Not  very  clear,"  I  answered ;  "  but,  after  all, 
the  thing  should  be  susceptible  of  some  form  of 
proof  to  our  present  senses." 

"  And  so  it  is,"  said  he.  "  Come  to-morrow  with 
me,  and  you  shall  see  and  hear  for  yourself." 

"  I  will,"  said  I,  "  if  the  doctor  will  lend  me  the 
ambulance." 

It  was  so  arranged,  as  the  surgeon  in  charge  was 
kind  enough,  as  usual,  to  oblige  me  with  the  loan 
of  his  wagon,  and  two  orderlies  to  lift  my  useless 
trunk. 

On  the  day  following  I  found  myself,  with  my 
new  comrade,  in  a  house  in  Coates  Street,  where  a 
"  circle "  was  in  the  daily  habit  of  meeting.  So 
soon  as  I  had  been  comfortably  deposited  in  an  arm- 
chair, beside  a  large  pine  table,  the  rest  of  those 
assembled  seated  themselves,  and  for  some  time 
preserved  an  unbroken  silence.  During  this  pause 
I  scrutinized  the  persons  present.  Next  to  me,  on 
my  right,  sat  a  flabby  man,  with  ill-marked,  baggy 
features  and  injected  eyes.  He  was,  as  I  learned 
afterwards,  an  eclectic  doctor,  who  had  tried  his 
hand  at  medicine  and  several  of  its  quackish  varia- 
tions, finally  settling  down  on  eclecticism,  which  I 


THE   CASE   OF   GEORGE   DEDLOW          105 

believe  professes  to  be  to  scientific  medicine  what 
vegetarianism  is  to  common-sense,  every-day  dietet- 
ics. Next  to  him  sat  a  female— authoress,  I  think, 
of  two  somewhat  feeble  novels,  and  much  pleasanter 
to  look  at  than  her  books.  She  was,  I  thought,  a 
good  deal  excited  at  the  prospect  of  spiritual  revela- 
tions. Her  neighbor  was  a  pallid,  care-worn  young 
woman,  with  very  red  lips,  and  large  brown  eyes  of 
great  beauty.  She  was,  as  I  learned  afterwards,  a 
magnetic  patient  of  the  doctor,  and  had  deserted 
her  husband,  a  master  mechanic,  to  follow  this  new 
light.  The  others  were,  like  myself,  strangers 
brought  hither  by  mere  curiosity.  One  of  them 
was  a  lady  in  deep  black,  closely  veiled.  Beyond 
her,  and  opposite  to  me,  sat  the  sergeant,  and  next  to 
him  the  medium,  a  man  named  Brink.  He  wore  a 
good  deal  of  jewelry,  and  had  large  black  side-whis- 
kers—a shrewd-visaged,  large-nosed,  full-lipped 
man,  formed  by  nature  to  appreciate  the  pleasant 
things  of  sensual  existence. 

Before  I  had  ended  my  survey,  he  turned  to  the 
lady  in  black,  and  asked  if  she  wished  to  see  any 
one  in  the  spirit-world. 

She  said,  "  Yes,"  rather  feebly. 

"  Is  the  spirit  present?  "  he  asked.  Upon  which 
two  knocks  were  heard  in  affirmation.  "  Ah ! "  said 
the  medium,  "  the  name  is — it  is  the  name  of  a 
child.  It  is  a  male  child.  It  is — " 

"  Alfred ! "  she  cried.  "  Great  Heaven !  My 
child !  My  boy ! " 

On  this  the  medium  arose,  and  became  strangely 
convulsed.  "  I  see,"  he  said — "  I  see — a  fair-haired 


106    THE  CASE  OF  GEORGE  DEDLOW 

boy.  I  see  blue  eyes — I  see  above  you,  beyond 
you — "  at  the  same  time  pointing  fixedly  over  her 
head. 

She  turned  with  a  wild  start.  "  Where — where- 
abouts?" 

"  A  blue-eyed  boy,"  he  continued,  "  over  your 
head.  He  cries — he  says,  '  Mama,  mama!'  " 

The  effect  of  this  on  the  woman  was  unpleasant. 
She  stared  about  her  for  a  moment,  and  exclaiming, 
"  I  come — I  am  coming,  Alfy!"  fell  in  hysterics  on 
the  floor. 

Two  or  three  persons  raised  her,  and  aided  her 
into  an  adjoining  room  ;  but  the  rest  remained  at  the 
table,  as  though  well  accustomed  to  like  scenes. 

After  this  several  of  the  strangers  were  called 
upon  to  write  the  names  of  the  dead  with  whom 
they  wished  to  communicate.  The  names  were 
spelled  out  by  the  agency  of  affirmative  knocks 
when  the  correct  letters  were  touched  by  the  appli- 
cant, who  was  furnished  with  an  alphabet-card  upon 
which  he  tapped  the  letters  in  turn,  the  medium, 
meanwhile,  scanning  his  face  very  keenly.  With 
some,  the  names  were  readily  made  out.  With  one, 
a  stolid  personage  of  disbelieving  type,  every  at- 
tempt failed,  until  at  last  the  spirits  signified  by 
knocks  that  he  was  a  disturbing  agency,  and  that 
while  he  remained  all  our  efforts  would  fail.  Upon 
this  some  of  the  company  proposed  that  he  should 
leave,  of  which  invitation  he  took  advantage,  with  a 
skeptical  sneer  at  the  whole  performance. 

As  he  left  us,  the  sergeant  leaned  over  and  whis- 
pered to  the  medium,  who  next  addressed  himself 


THE   CASE   OF   GEORGE   DEDLOW          107 

to  me.  "  Sister  Euphemia,"  he  said,  indicating  the 
lady  with  large  eyes,  "  will  act  as  your  medium.  I 
am  unable  to  do  more.  These  things  exhaust  my 
nervous  system." 

"  Sister  Euphemia,"  said  the  doctor,  "  will  aid  us. 
Think,  if  you  please,  sir,  of  a  spirit,  and  she  will 
endeavor  to  summon  it  to  our  circle." 

Upon  this  a  wild  idea  came  into  my  head.  I 
answered :  "  I  am  thinking  as  you  directed  me  to 
do." 

The  medium  sat  with  her  arms  folded,  looking 
steadily  at  the  center  of  the  table.  For  a  few  mo- 
ments there  was  silence.  Then  a  series  of  irregular 
knocks  began.  "Are  you  present?"  said  the  me- 
dium. 

The  affirmative  raps  were  twice  given. 

"  I  should  think,"  said  the  doctor,  "  that  there 
were  two  spirits  present." 

His  words  sent  a  thrill  through  my  heart. 

"  Are  there  two  ?  "  he  questioned. 

A  double  rap. 

"  Yes,  two,"  said  the  medium.  "  Will  it  please 
the  spirits  to  make  us  conscious  of  their  names  in 
this  world?  " 

A  single  knock.     "  No." 

"  Will  it  please  them  to  say  how  they  are  called 
in  the  world  of  spirits?" 

Again  came  the  irregular  raps — 3,  4,  8,  6;  then  a 
pause,  and  3,  4,  8,  7. 

"  I  think,"  said  the  authoress,  "  they  must  be 
numbers.  Will  the  spirits,"  she  said,  "  be  good 
enough  to  aid  us?  Shall  we  use  the  alphabet?" 


108    THE  CASE  OF  GEORGE  DEDLOW 

"  Yes,"  was  rapped  very  quickly. 

"Are  these  numbers?" 

"  Yes,"  again. 

"  I  will  write  them,"  she  added,  and,  doing  so, 
took  up  the  card  and  tapped  the  letters.  The  spell- 
ing was  pretty  rapid,  and  ran  thus  as  she  tapped,  in 
turn,  first  the  letters,  and  last  the  numbers  she  had 
already  set  down : 

"  UNITED  STATES  ARMY  MEDICAL  MUSEUM, 
Nos.  3486,  3487." 

The  medium  looked  up  with  a  puzzled  expression. 

"  Good  gracious ! "  said  I,  "  they  are  my  legs — my 
legs!" 

What  followed,  I  ask  no  one  to  believe  except 
those  who,  like  myself,  have  communed  with  the 
things  of  another  sphere.  Suddenly  I  felt  a  strange 
return  of  my  self-consciousness.  I  was  reindividual- 
ized,  so  to  speak.  A  strange  wonder  filled  me,  and, 
to  the  amazement  of  every  one,  I  arose,  and,  stagger- 
ing a  little,  walked  across  the  room  on  limbs  in- 
visible to  them  or  me.  It  was  no  wonder  I 
staggered,  for,  as  I  briefly  reflected,  my  legs  had 
been  nine  months  in  the  strongest  alcohol.  At  this 
instant  all  my  new  friends  crowded  around  me  in 
astonishment.  Presently,  however,  I  felt  myself 
sinking  slowly.  My  legs  were  going,  and  in  a 
moment  I  was  resting  feebly  on  my  two  stumps 
upon  the  floor.  It  was  too  much.  All  that  was 
left  of  me  fainted  and  rolled  over  senseless. 

I  have  little  to  add.  I  am  now  at  home  in  the 
West,  surrounded  by  every  form  of  kindness  and 
every  possible  comfort;  but  alas!  I  have  so  little 


THE   CASE   OF    GEORGE   DEDLOW  109 

surety  of  being  myself  that  I  doubt  my  own  honesty 
in  drawing  my  pension,  and  feel  absolved  from 
gratitude  to  those  who  are  kind  to  a  being  who  is 
uncertain  of  being  enough  of  himself  to  be  con- 
scientiously responsible.  It  is  needless  to  add  that  I 
am  not  a  happy  fraction  of  a  man,  and  that  I  am 
eager  for  the  day  when  I  shall  rejoin  the  lost  mem- 
bers of  my  corporeal  family  in  another  and  a  happier 
world. 


HEPHZIBAH  GUINNESS 


HEPHZIBAH    GUINNESS. 


CHAPTER    I. 

ON  the  fifteenth  day  of  October,  in  the  year  1807, 
a  young  man  about  the  age  of  twenty  walked  slowly 
down  Front  Street  in  the  quiet  city  of  Philadelphia. 
The  place  was  strange  to  him,  and  with  the  careless 
curiosity  of  youth  he  glanced  about  and  enjoyed  alike 
the  freshness  of  the  evening  hour  and  the  novelty  of 
the  scene. 

To  the  lad — for  he  was  hardly  more — the  air  was 
delicious,  because  only  the  day  before  he  had  first  set 
foot  on  shore  after  a  wearisome  ocean-voyage.  All 
the  afternoon  a  torrent  of  rain  had  fallen,  but  as  he 
paused  and  looked  westward  at  the  corner  of  Cedar 
Street,  the  lessening  rain,  of  which  he  had  taken 
little  heed,  ceased  of  a  sudden,  and  below  the  dun 
masses  of  swiftly-changing  clouds  the  western  sky 
became  all  aglow  with  yellow  light,  which  set  a  rain- 
bow over  the  broad  Delaware  and  touched  with  gold 
the  large  drops  of  the  ceasing  shower. 

The  young  man  stood  a  moment  gazing  at  the 
changeful  sky,  and  then  with  a  pleasant  sense  of 


H4  HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS 

sober  contrast  let  his  eyes  wander  over  the  broken 
roof-lines  and  broad  gables  of  Front  Street,  noting 
how  sombre  the  wetted  brick  houses  became,  and 
how  black  the  shingled  roofs  with  their  patches  of 
tufted  green  moss  and  smoother  lichen.  Then  as  he 
looked  he  saw,  a  few  paces  down  the  street,  two 
superb  buttonwoods  from  which  the  leaves  were  flit- 
ting fast,  and  his  quick  eye  caught  the  mottled  love- 
liness of  their  white  and  gray  and  green  boles. 
Drawn  by  the  unusual  tints  of  these  stately  trunks, 
he  turned  southward,  and  walking  towards  them, 
stopped  abruptly  before  the  quaint  house  above  which 
they  spread  their  broad  and  gnarled  branches. 

The  dwelling,  of  red  and  black  glazed  bricks,  was 
what  we  still  call  a  double  house,  having  two  win- 
dows on  each  side  of  a  door,  over  which  projected 
a  peaked  pent-house  nearly  hidden  by  scarlet  masses 
of  Virginia  creeper,  which  also  clung  about  the 
windows  and  the  roof,  and  almost  hid  the  chimneys. 
The  house  stood  back  from  the  street,  and  in  front 
of  it  were  two  square  grass-plots  set  round  with 
low  box  borders.  A  paling  fence,  freshly  white- 
washed, bounded  the  little  garden,  and  all  about 
the  house  and  its  surroundings  was  an  air  of  tran- 
quil, easy  comfort  and  well-bred  dignity. 

Along  the  whole  line  of  Front  Street — which  was 
then  the  fashionable  place  of  residence — the  house- 
fronts  were  broken  by  white  doorways  with  Doric 
pillars  of  wood,  such  as  you  may  see  to-day  in  cer- 
tain city  streets  as  you  turn  aside  from  the  busy  Strand 
in  London.  There  were  also  many  low  Dutch  stoops 
or  porches,  some  roofed  over  and  some  uncovered, 


HEPHZIBAH    GUINNESS  115 

but  there  were  few  mansions  as  large  and  important 
as  the  house  we  have  described. 

As  the  rain  ceased  old  men  with  their  long  pipes 
came  out  on  the  porches,  and  women's  heads  peeped 
from  open  windows  to  exchange  bits  of  gossip,  while 
up  and  down  the  pavements,  as  if  this  evening  chat 
were  an  every-day  thing,  men  of  all  classes  wandered 
to  take  the  air  so  soon  as  the  fierce  afternoon  storm 
had  spent  its  force. 

As  the  young  stranger  moved  along  among  sparse 
groups  of  gentlemen  and  others,  he  was  struck  with 
the  variety  of  costume.  The  middle-aged  and  old  ad- 
hered to  the  knee-breeches  and  buckles,  the  younger 
wore  pantaloons  of  tight-fitting  stocking-net,  with 
shoes  and  silk  stockings,  or  sometimes  high  boots 
with  polished  tops  adorned  with  silk  tassels.  It  was 
a  pretty,  picturesque  street-scene,  with  its  variety  of 
puce-colored  or  dark  velvet  coats  and  ample  cravats 
under  scroll-brimmed  beaver  hats. 

The  sailor  of  1 807  dressed  like  the  sailor  of  to-day, 
and  the  lad's  figure  would  have  seemed  no  more 
strange  now  than  it  did  then.  But  a  certain  pride  of 
carriage,  broad  shoulders  set  off  by  a  loose  jacket, 
and  clothes  tight  on  narrow  hips,  drew  appreciative 
looks  as  he  passed;  and  the  eye  which  wandered 
upward  must  have  dwelt  pleased,  I  fancy,  on  the 
brown,  handsome  face,  with  its  strong  lines  of  fore- 
head and  a  mouth  of  great  sweetness  above  a  some- 
what over-large  chin. 

As  the  young  man  drew  near  to  the  buttonwoods 
a  notable-looking  person  came  with  slow  and  thought- 
laden  steps  from  the  south.  This  gentleman  was  a 


Il6  HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS 

man  of  six  leet  two  or  three  inches,  and  of  so  large 
and  manly  a  build  that  his  great  height  was  not  ob- 
servable. His  face  was  largely  modelled  like  his 
figure,  and  apart  from  his  dress  he  looked  better 
fitted  to  have  ridden  at  the  head  of  a  regiment  than 
to  have  dwelt  amidst  the  quietness  of  early  Phil- 
adelphia. The  younger  man  saw,  with  the  eye  of 
one  wont  to  take  note  of  men's  thews  and  sinews, 
the  gigantic  grace  of  the  figure  before  him,  and  his 
curious  glances  slipped  from  the  low,  scroll-brimmed 
gray  beaver  hat  to  the  straight-cut  coat  with  its  cloth 
buttons,  and  at  last  rested  with  approval  on  the  plain 
shoes,  devoid  of  buckle,  and  the  ample  gray  calves 
above  them. 

As  the  drab  giant  turned  to  enter  the  gate  of  the 
house  the  young  man  followed  him  with  his  gaze, 
and  a  gleam  of  pleasure  crossed  his  face  as  another 
of  the  persons  in  our  little  drama  came  into  view. 
For  as  he  looked  the  upper  half  of  the  house-door, 
on  which  was  a  heavy  brass  knocker,  opened,  and 
a  woman  of  about  thirty-five  years,  leaning  on  the 
upper  edge  of  the  lower  half  of  the  door,  became 
suddenly  aware  of  the  tall  Quaker  coming  up  the 
walk.  Resting  her  arms  on  the  ledge,  she  looked 
out  over  the  little  space,  and  called  aloud,  quite 
briskly,  "  Marguerite !  Marguerite !"  Instantly  from 
between  the  house  and  the  garden-wall  to  the  south 
of  it  came,  as  at  the  call  of  the  prompter,  yet  another 
of  our  actors ;  and  it  was  for  her  the  young  sailor 
stood  still,  like  a  dog  on  point. 

The  girl  he  saw  was  possibly  sixteen  years  old, 
and  was  dressed  in  the  plainest  of  Friends'  attire,  but 


HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS  1 17 

as  young  people  of  that  sect  were  rarely  clad  in  those 
days,  in  a  simple  but  costly  gray  silk  gown,  with  the 
traditional  folds  of  fine  muslin  about  the  throat,  a 
plain  silk  kerchief  pinned  back  on  the  shoulders,  and 
a  transparent  cap  closely  drawn  about  the  face.  Un- 
der this  cap  was  wicked  splendor  of  hair,  which  might 
have  been  red,  and  had  vicious  ways  of  curling  out 
here  and  there  from  the  bondage  of  the  cap,  as  if  to 
see  what  the  profane  world  was  like.  Within  the 
sober  boundaries  of  her  Quaker  head-gear  was  a  face 
which  prophetic  nature  meant  should  be  of  a  stately 
beauty  in  years  to  come,  but  which  just  now  was 
simply  gracious  with  changing  color  and  the  tender 
loveliness  which  looks  out  on  the  world  from  the 
threshold  of  maturity. 

At  this  moment  a  woman  of  middle  age,  in  the 
most  severe  and  accurate  of  Quaker  dress,  crossed 
the  street,  and  catching  the  little  garden-gate  as  it 
swung  to  behind  the  man,  went  in  just  after  him. 
The  resolute  shelter  of  the  Friends'  bonnet  hid  the 
woman's  face  from  all  save  those  towards  whom  she 
turned  it,  or  the  young  sailor  might  have  seen  it 
lower  and  grow  hard ;  for  as  she  went  along  the  path 
of  red  gravel  the  young  girl  danced  merrily  up  to 
the  door  at  the  call  of  the  lady  who  stood  within  it. 
In  her  bosom  the  child  had  set  a  bunch  of  late  moss 
roses,  and  over  her  cap  and  across  her  breast  and 
around  her  waist  had  twined  a  string  of  the  dark-red 
berries  from  which  spring  the  scant  calices  of  the 
sweetbrier  and  wild  rose. 

The  woman  in  the  doorway  was  fashionably  clad 
in  a  short-waisted  dark  velvet  dress,  with  tight-fitting 


Il8  HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS 

sleeves  ending  at  the  upper  forearm  in  a  fall  of  rich 
lace.  She  wore  her  abundant  black  hair  coiled  on  the 
back  of  her  head,  with  little  half  curls  on  the  fore- 
head. The  face  below  them  was  dark,  sombre,  and 
handsome,  with  an  expression  of  sadness  which  rarely 
failed  to  impress  painfully  those  who  saw  her  for  the 
first  time.  She  smiled  gravely  and  quietly  as  she 
saw  the  growing  look  of  annoyance  on  the  face  of 
the  Quakeress  and  the  half-awed,  half-amused  ex- 
pression on  that  of  her  young  niece  as  she  too  caught 
a  glance  of  reprobation. 

"  Good-evening,  Mr.  Guinness,"  she  said.  Most 
women  of  her  class,  who  had  been  Friends,  would 
have  called  the  new-comer  by  his  first  name.  This 
woman,  who  had  been  bred  a  Quaker,  but  had  early 
left  their  ranks  for  those  of  the  Episcopal  Church, 
set  her  face  somewhat  against  Quaker  manners,  and 
in  quitting  their  Society  had  totally  left  behind  her 
all  their  ways  and  usages. 

A  sense  of  joy  lit  up  the  large  features  of  the 
Friend  as  he  answered,  "  Thou  art  well,  I  trust  ?  and 
were  I  thee  I  would  have  my  picture  made  as  thou 
art  now,  in  the  frame  of  the  doorway,  with  the  door 
at  the  end  of  the  entry  open  behind  thee  to  make  a 
square  of  gold  out  of  the  western  sky.  It  was  art- 
fully devised,  Elizabeth.  As  a  Friend  I  am  shocked 
at  thee." 

At  this  playful  speech — during  which  he  had  taken 
her  hand  in  greeting — Miss  Howard's  face  took  a 
half-amused,  half-annoyed  expression,  which  Arthur 
Guinness  quickly  comprehended  as  he  heard  a  short 
cough  behind  him,  and  dropping  Elizabeth's  hand 


HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS  119 

turned  to  see  his  sister  Hephzibah,  who  was  regard- 
ing with  set,  stern  visage  the  scared  child  beside  them. 

Caught  in  the  brilliant  autumn  jewelries  she  had 
gathered  from  the  garden-wall,  the  girl,  who  knew 
well  the  hard  face  now  turned  upon  her,  at  first 
caught  up  her  treasures  and  was  moved  to  fly,  but 
on  a  sudden  checked  herself,  and  pausing  drew  up 
her  pretty  figure  with  a  certain  pride,  and  faced  the 
enemy  with  a  look  half  determined,  half  amused. 

The  stately  aunt  in  the  doorway  fluttered  her  fan 
to  and  fro,  and  said,  smiling,  "  Good-evening,  Heph- 
zibah. What  is  it  ails  you  ?" 

"  Nothing  ails  me,"  replied  the  Quakeress :  "  the 
ailment  is  here.  It  is  the  disease  of  the  world's  van- 
ities in  this  child ;"  and  turning  to  the  girl  she  went 
on :  "I  had  hoped  that  thou  hadst  learned  to  talk 
less  and  to  laugh  less ;  and,  knowing  well  thy  father's 
wishes,  thou  wouldst  do  better  to  avoid  such  gew- 
gaws as  these  corals,  which  I  suppose  my  friend 
Elizabeth  hath  unwisely  tempted  thee  with." 

The  girl  made  a  stern  effort  to  check  her  mirth  at 
her  guardian's  mistake,  but  Nature  was  too  much 
mistress  of  this  blithe  playmate  of  hers,  who  sud- 
denly broke  into  a  riot  of  laughter,  saying  between 
her  bursts  of  mirth,  "  Oh,  but  thou  wilt  pardon  me, 

and  thou  knowest  I  never  can  help  it Oh,  thou 

knowest !  and  oh  dear !"  and  so  saying  fled  in  despair 
to  hide  her  irreverent  mirth. 

The  Quakeress's  face  grew  darker  as  she  turned  to 
Elizabeth.  "  Are  these  thy  lessons  ?"  she  said. 

"  Good  gracious !"  said  Miss  Howard.  "  How  ut- 
terly absurd  !  How  could  you  make  so  droll  a  mis- 


120  HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS 

take?  Those  were  not  corals  of  the  sea,  but  the 
jewels  of  our  garden." 

"  It  little  matters,"  replied  Hephzibah.  "  Thou  art 
of  our  people  no  longer,  and  Friends'  ways  are  not 
thy  ways,  and  thou  couldst  not  help  but  hurt  us,  even 
if  thou  wouldst  not." 

"  And  most  surely  I  would  not,  as  you  ought  to 
know  by  this  time.  Friends'  ways  are  not  my  ways  ; 
and  yet  I  have  obeyed  my  good  brother  as  to  this 
child  most  straitly,  even  when — yes,  even  when  I 
have  thought  it  wrong  to  make  so  uncheerful  a  life 
for  her,  knowing  well — oh,  my  God ! — how  sad  and 
lonely  it  is  to  be  through  all  the  years  to  come." 
She  said  these  words  as  she  stood,  still  holding  the 
open  door  and  staring  past  the  woman  she  addressed, 
as  if  she  saw  the  long  vista  of  time  and  the  dark 
procession  of  those  years  of  gloom. 

Arthur  looked  wistfully  into  her  eyes  as  he  passed 
her  and  went  into  the  house ;  and  his  sister,  with  a 
glance  of  annoyance,  said  sharply,  "  I  have  other 
work  to  do ;"  and  turning  left  them. 

No  word  of  all  this  came  to  the  ears  of  the  young 
sailor,  but  what  he  saw  was  as  it  were  a  pantomime. 
The  girl  with  her  rebel  laughter ;  the  stately  Eliza- 
beth Howard,  whose  air  and  dress  and  bearing 
brought  some  unbidden  moisture  to  his  eyes;  the 
Quakeress;  the  stern,  half-laughing  giant  in  drab, 
— all  helped  to  make  up  for  him  a  little  drama  within 
the  white  palings. 

"  Comme  c'est  drole ! "  he  murmured.  "  Qu'elle 
est  belle  la  Marguerite  /"  and  so  saying  turned  and 
went  lazily  southward  down  Front  Street,  as  if 


HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS  121 

looking  for  some  one  whose  coming  he  expected. 
Musing  over  the  chances  which  had  left  him  land- 
less, homeless,  and  moneyless,  the  young  French- 
man strode  along  gayly,  still  keeping  a  lookout  for 
his  friend.  As  he  passed  Christian  Street  and  the 
houses  grew  scarce,  he  saw  coming  towards  him 
the  person  whom  he  sought.  The  new-comer  was 
a  man  of  middle  age,  dressed  somewhat  carefully 
in  rather  worn  black  clothes  with  patched  black 
silk  stockings,  and  low  shoes  with  silver  buckles. 
The  style  of  costume,  especially  the  rounded  low 
beaver  hat  with  the  rim  scrolled  upwards  in  triple 
rolls,  marked  the  owner  for  an  emigrant  abbe, — 
a  figure  and  character  which  had  become  familiar 
enough  in  Philadelphia,  where  the  French  Revo- 
lution had  stranded  numberless  unhappy  waifs  of 
all  classes. 

The  abbe  was  a  pleasant-looking  man  of  rather 
delicate  features  and  build,  but  somewhat  ruddy  for 
so  slight  a  person.  A  certain  erectness  of  carriage 
was  possibly  the  inheritance  by  middle  life  of  a  youth 
spent  in  camps,  and  around  the  mouth  some  traitor 
lines  bespoke  love  of  ease  and  good  living,  and  gave 
reason  to  guess  why  he  had  found  it  pleasant  to 
abandon  his  regiment  for  the  charming  convent 
which  looked  downward  over  Divonne  upon  the 
distant  Lake  of  Geneva,  and  across  miles  of  walnut- 
groves  and  tangled  vineyards  which  clothe  the  slopes 
of  the  purple  Jura. 

"  Good-evening,"  said  the  younger  man  :  "  you  are 
the  welcome." 

The  abbe  laughed.     "  If  you  will  speak  English," 


122  HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS 

he  said,  in  accents  which  but  slightly  betrayed  his 
birth,  as  indeed  they  did  rarely  save  in  moments  of 
excitement — "  if  you  will  speak  English,  say,  '  You 
are  welcome.'  " 

"  Ah,  but  it  is  that  I  find  it  difficult,"  returned  the 
sailor ;  "  and  how  strange  is  all  the  land  we  have 
here!" 

"  All  lands  seem  strange  to  the  young,"  said  the 
abbe,  "  but  to  me  none  are  strange ;  and  all  are  much 
the  same,  because  no  climate  disagrees  with  all  wines 
or  with  cards,  and  at  forty  one  is  a  little  philosophe. 
It  seems  a  tranquil  town,  and  what  they  call  com- 
fortable." 

"  At  the  least,"  answered  the  other,  "  we  shall  find 
here  a  safe  home,  and,  as  I  trust,  something  to  keep 
to  us  the  morsel  of  bread,  until  better  times  arrive 
to  our  dear  France.  I  have  given  my  letters,  and  I 
have  hope  to  get  me  a  place  in  the  bureau  of  this 
Monsieur  Guinness.  It  will  seem  strange  at  first." 

"  Not  less  than  to  me  to  teach  these  young  misses 
to  talk  the  tongue  of  France,"  said  the  abbe. 

"  I  have  seen  one  this  evening,"  returned  the  sailor, 
"  which  I  should  find  pleasing  to  teach." 

"  Ah,  you  find  them  pretty  ?"  said  the  abbe.  "  Bet- 
ter, cher  baron,  to  forget  the  beau  sexe :  we  are  not  of 
Versailles  to-day." 

"You  should  remember,  in  turn,"  answered  his 
nephew,  "  that  I  am  here  only  M.  de  Vismes ;  we  are 
barons  no  longer." 

"You  have  reason,  Henri,"  said  the  elder  man. 
"  It  is  like  those  little  comedies  we  used  to  play  at 
the  Trianon.  And,  ma  foil  here  I  saw  but  yesterday 


HEPHZIBAH    GUINNESS  123 

M.  le  Comte  de  St.  Pierre  teaching  to  dance,  as  I  saw 

him  once  in  that  charming  little  play How  one's 

memory  fails  !  What  was  it,  Henri  ?  But  no  mat- 
ter ;  all  life  is  to  act.  Ah,  I  think  that  has  been  said 
before.  How  stupid  to  say  what  already  has  been 
said  !  But  alas  for  our  grandchildren  !  it  will  be  for 
them  impossible  to  say  something  new." 

"What  difference?"  laughed  the  younger  man. 
"  There  are  things  which  to  say  and  to  hear  shall  be 
pleasant  always  ;"  and  the  lad  kept  silence,  thinking 
of  the  little  nothings  his  mother  had  said  to  him,  a 
child,  when,  hand  in  hand,  they  wandered  beside  the 
braided  streamlets  of  Divonne. 

Meanwhile  the  abbe  chatted  of  camp  and  court, 
until  at  last,  as  they  strolled  along,  lonely  men,  past 
the  open  windows  and  crowded  steps, — for  the  even- 
ing was  warm, — the  younger  exclaimed, "  Here,  some 
place,  I  ought  to  find  the  house  of  Monsieur  Guin- 
ness, which  I  was  to  see  to-night.  Is  it  already  too 
soon  ?" 

"  Ah,  not,  I  think ;  but  we  may  wait  yet  a  little, 
and  return  again." 

"  And  this  is  it,"  said  the  younger,  pausing. 

The  house  was  a  plain  brick  dwelling,  with  the 
usual  wooden  Doric  pillars,  painted  white. 

Marking  the  place,  the  two  Frenchmen  strolled 
away  up  Front  Street,  to  return  somewhat  later  in 
the  evening.  They  fell  into  silence  as  they  walked, 
and  the  elder  man  amused  himself  with  a  vague  kind 
of  wonder  at  the  caractere  serieux  and  tout  a  fait 
Anglais  of  his  nephew,  little  dreaming  that  the  young 
man  was  in  like  fashion  marvelling  that  through 


124  HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS 

camp  and  court  and  cloister,  and  sad  prisons  and  in 
awful  nearness  of  death  on  the  scaffold,  his  uncle 
should  have  kept  his  gay,  careless,  sceptical  nature, 
his  capacity  to  find  some  trivial  pleasure  in  all  things. 
He  could  not  understand  how  a  man  who  had  been 
so  close  to  death  in  many  shapes  should  yet  have 
brought  away  with  him  no  shadow  of  its  sombre 
fellowship,  and  should  have  learned  only  to  disbe- 
lieve and  to  doubt.  He  himself,  beneath  the  natural 
childlike  joyousness  of  his  race  which  made  hard- 
ships light,  concealed  for  use  in  darker  hours  a  firm 
will  and  a  sober  steadiness  of  moral  balance,  which 
perhaps  came  to  him  from  his  English  mother,  and 
dowered  him  with  a  manhood  planned  for  upright, 
honorable  pursuit  of  noble  purposes, — a  sweet,  grave, 
earnest  nature,  with  the  even  sunny  temper  of  a 
sunny  day. 


CHAPTER    II. 

INTO  the  parlor  of  the  house  they  had  just  passed 
came  a  few  minutes  later  a  tall,  gaunt,  angular 
woman,  whose  stiff  and  bony  outlines  were  made 
mercilessly  evident  by  a  closely-fitting  drab  dress 
with  tight  plain  sleeves  and  the  studiously  simple 
muslin  worn  only  by  rigid  Friends.  Her  face  was 
colorless  like  her  dress ;  her  hair,  almost  a  perfect 
white,  was  worn  flat  under  her  cap;  her  features 
were  large  and  not  lacking  in  a  certain  nobleness  of 
outline,  but  strangely  wanting  in  any  expression  save 


HEPHZIBAH    GUINNESS  125 

that  of  severe  and  steady  self-control.  The  room 
was  square,  and  plainly  panelled  in  white-painted 
pine ;  the  furniture  throughout  of  rigid,  upright  ma- 
hogany, with  black  hair-cloth  seats  to  the  chairs. 
On  a  claw-toed  table  double  silver  candelabra  with 
wax  candles  would  have  but  dimly  lighted  the  room 
had  it  not  been  for  the  ruddy  glow  of  a  hickory- 
wood  fire  which  flashed  across  large,  brightly-pol- 
ished andirons  and  a  brass  fender  cut  into  delicate 
open-work.  The  walls  were  white ;  the  floor  was 
without  carpet,  and  sanded  in  curious  figures. 

Miss  Hephzibah  Guinness  paused  as  she  entered 
the  room  and  looked  critically  about  her.  Then  she 
snuffed  the  candles  and  rang  a  small  silver  bell 
which  stood  on  the  table.  Presently  appeared  a 
little  black  maid,  clad  much  like  her  mistress,  but 
in  rather  less  accurate  fashion.  Mistress  Hephzibah 
pointed  sternly  to  a  corner  of  the  room  where  an 
active  spider  had  spread  his  net. 

The  little  maid  examined  it  curiously :  "  Done 
made  it  sence  dis  mornin'." 

"  And  this  also  ?"  said  the  lady,  indicating  a  place 
on  the  floor  where  the  carefully-made  figures  traced 
by  sifting  the  sand  out  of  a  colander  were  incom- 
plete. "  Thou  shouldst  have  been  as  careful  as  the 
spider.  Consider  his  work, — how  neat,  Dorcas." 

"  Couldn't  consider  dat,  missus,  ef  I  had  a-sp'iled 
him  wid  de  brush." 

The  face  of  the  mistress  showed  no  signs  of 
amusement  at  this  ready  retort.  "  Brush  away 
the  web,"  she  said,  "  and  keep  thy  thoughts  to  thy- 
self." 


126  HEPHZIBAH    GUINNESS 

The  little  maid  bestirred  herself  briskly  under  the 
grave  eye  of  her  mistress,  and  presently  the  knocker 
was  heard. 

"  Thy  master  is  out,"  said  Hephzibah,  "  but  I  will 
see  any  one  who  may  call." 

In  a  moment  or  two  the  maid  came  back.  "Two 
gentlemen  to  see  the  master,"  said  the  girl. 

"  And  thou  hast  left  them  to  stand  in  the  entry  1 
Bid  them  come  in  at  once." 

A  moment  later  the  Abbe  de  Vismes  and  his 
nephew  entered  the  room.  The  younger  man  cast  a 
glance  of  amused  curiosity  at  the  apartment  and  at 
its  sombre  occupant,  who  advanced  to  meet  them. 
The  abbe  bowed  profoundly,  without  showing  a  trace 
of  the  amazement  he  felt  at  this  novel  interior  and 
the  tall  and  serious  figure  before  him.  "  Allow  me," 
he  said,  "  to  present  myself :  I  am  the  Abbe  de 
Vismes,  and  this  is  my  nephew,  Monsieur  de  Vismes. 
We  have  an  appointment  with  Monsieur  Guinness. 
Have  I  the  great  pleasure  to  see  his  wife  ?" 

"  I  am  his  sister,"  said  Hephzibah,  shortly.  As  he 
named  himself  a  shudder  passed  over  her,  and  she 
steadied  herself  by  seizing  the  back  of  a  chair  as 
she  thought,  "  Alas !  is  the  bitter  bread  coming  back 
on  the  waters?"  Then  she  recovered  her  control 
with  an  effort,  and  added,  aloud,  "  My  brother  is  not 
married.  Wilt  thou  take  seats,  friends  ?" 

"Ah,"  exclaimed  the  baron  to  himself,  "what  a 
droll  country !  Elle  le  tutoie.  It  must  be  a  fashion 
of  Quakre." 

"  I  should  well  have  known  you  for  the  sister," 
said  the  abbe :  "  the  likeness  is  plain  to  see  ;"  and  this 


HEPHZIBAH    GUINNESS  127 

was  true.  He  had  seen  the  brother,  and  was  struck 
now  with  the  resemblance  of  features  and  the  unlike- 
ness  of  expression. 

"  It  hath  been  spoken  of  by  many,"  she  said,  re- 
plying to  his  remark.  "  My  brother  will  be  in  by 
and  by.  You  must  be,  I  think,  of  the  unhappy  ones 
who  have  been  cast  on  our  shores  by  the  sad  warfare 
in  France  ?" 

"We  are  indeed  unfortunate  emigres,"  returned 
the  abbe,  "  who  have  brought  letters  from  friends  of 
your  brother." 

"  From  France  ?"  she  exclaimed,  hastily. 

"  No ;  ah,  no,"  he  answered ;  "  from  England." 

"  And,"  she  said,  with  a  sense  of  relief,  "  and — 
and  you  do  not  know  any  one  here  ?" 

"  We  have  that  ill-fortune,"  he  returned, "  but  hope 
soon  to  make  friends.  As  yet  it  is  all  most  strange 
to  us,  and  as  poverty  is  a  dear  tailor,  I  might  ask 
that  we  be  excused  to  present  ourselves  in  a  dress  so 
unfit.  My  nephew  came  a  sailor,  and  the  dress  he 
has  not  yet  found  time  to  alter." 

The  woman's  changeless  face  turned  toward  the 
lad  and  met  his  ready  smile,  and  she  had  in  her 
heart  a  new  pang,  because  she  bethought  her,  "  Had 
I  been  a  wife  and  mother,  the  son  I  might  have  had 
would  have  been  like  this  lad  smiling  at  me  to-day." 
But  the  answer  she  made  was  like  many  answers, — 
the  thought  least  near  to  her  heart :  "  The  young 
man's  apparel  is  well  for  his  way  of  life,  and  hath 
the  value  of  fitness.  But  perhaps  thou  dost  not 
know  that  we  of  the  Society  of  Friends  observe  a 
certain  plainness  of  dress  ourselves,  and  are  for  this 


128  HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS 

reason  but  little  apt  to  criticise  the  dress  which  is 
plain  because  of  wear  or  poverty  ?" 

"  Without  doubt,  then,"  laughed  the  abbe,  glanc- 
ing down  at  his  shining  breeches  and  well-darned 
hose,  "  I  should  pass  well  the  trial.  They  are  all 
grown  to  a  pleasant  likeness  of  tint  by  reason  that 
they  have  shared  like  trials  of  sun  and  rain, 
and,  mon  Dieu  /  they  are  as  well  worn  as  my  con- 
science." 

Hephzibah  turned  upon  him  with  a  real  sense  of 
shock,  and  as  one  wont  in  meeting  to  obey  the  im- 
pulse of  speech  when  it  grew  strong,  she  said,  "  I 
understand  not  thy  language, — indeed,  almost  none 
of  it, — but  yet  enough  to  know  thou  hast  spoken 
lightly  of  the  great  Maker  and  unwisely  of  the  friend 
we  call  conscience.  Do  I  rightly  suppose  thee  to  be 
a  minister  among  thy  people  ?" 

The  lad  ceased  smiling  as  he  saw  her  graver  face, 
and  the  abbe,  profoundly  puzzled  at  the  sermon  his 
slight  text  had  brought  out,  and  yet  seeing  he  had 
made  a  false  step,  said,  "  Alas !  I  have  been  so  long 
away  from  my  flock  that  I  am  forgetting  the  simple 
tongue  of  the  shepherd." 

The  woman  did  not  see  the  amused  twinkle  in  the 
eye  of  this  gay  shepherd  of  the  joyous  Trianon, 
and  missed  too  the  sudden  glance  of  amazement  in 
the  face  of  the  nephew.  She  was  engaged,  as  always, 
in  an  abrupt,  suspicious  study  of  her  own  motives  in 
speaking,  and  would  have  wished  to  be  silent  a  while. 
But  there  was  need  to  speak,  and  therefore  she  said, 
"  I  am  an  unfit  vessel  for  the  bearing  of  reproach  to 
another,  but  thy  words  startled  me,  and  the  thought 


HEPHZIBAH    GUINNESS  I2Q 

I  was  thinking  spoke  itself.  Thou  wilt  consider 
kindly  my  saying." 

The  abbe  was  somewhat  bewildered  at  the  English 
used,  but  he  said,  "  The  fair  sex  hath  its  privileges  to 
speak  what  it  will,  madame :  it  is  ours  to  obey." 

Hephzibah  disliked  the  gay  answer,  and  turning  to 
the  young  sailor  said,  "  Thou  hast  come  to  shore  in 
our  pleasant  October  weather.  Has  it  its  like  in 
France  ?" 

"  Ah  me !"  he  answered,  "  they  gather  the  vintage 
these  days  on  the  slopes  of  the  Jura,  and  the  sun  is 

less  warm  than  ours,  and Pardon,  I  like  it  here." 

He  paused,  with  a  choking  in  his  throat  as  he  re- 
membered the  yellowing  walnut  groves  and  the  gray 
chateau  of  Dex  and  the  distant  sapphire  lake. 

Hephzibah's  face  softened  anew.  "  It  is  hard,"  she 
said,  "  to  leave  friends  and  home,  but  this  is  perhaps 
a  way,  among  many,  to  soften  the  hearts  which  are 
grown  hard.  And  He  has  many  ways  to  touch  us 
— many  ways,"  she  added  musingly,  for  she  was 
thinking  of  what  a  soul-quake  had  shaken  her  own 
being  at  the  sound  of  a  name  unheard  for  years. 

"  Ah,  madame,"  he  said,  "  my  heart  is  not  hard, 
and  the  world  seemed  so  sweet  to  me  once,  when  all 
those  that  I  loved  did  live." 

"  But  perchance  they  died  that  thou  mightst  more 
truly  live,"  said  Hephzibah,  in  calm  technical  tones. 

"  Then  I  would  be  dead  rather,"  said  young  De 
Vismes  fiercely,  puzzled  and  hurt. 

"  Ah  me !"  said  the  abbe.  "  You  have  well  said, 
madame.  When  that  we  are  gone  past  many  troubles 
it  is  that  we  learn  to  live.  Let  us  make  haste  to  en- 


130  HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS 

joy  the  sun  and  the  wine  and  the  pleasant  things,  as 
the  wise  Solomon  has  bidden  us." 

"  But  that  is  so  little  of  life !"  said  his  nephew,  sadly. 

"  And  I  fear,"  added  Hephzibah,  sternly,  "  that  we 
are  as  them  that  speak  to  one  another  in  strange 
tongues,  not  understanding.  But  here  comes  my 
brother." 

As  she  spoke  Arthur  Guinness  entered  the  room, 
wearing  his  hat  after  the  fashion  of  Friends.  "  These," 
said  his  sister,  "  be  friends  which  have  come  to  thee, 
Arthur,  with  letters  from  thy  correspondents  in  Eng- 
land." 

"  They  are  welcome,"  said  he.  "  I  am  glad  to  see 
thee  again ;  and  this  must  be  the  nephew  of  whom 
thou  hast  spoken,  and  whose  letters  I  have  had." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  abbe, — "  my  nephew  the  Baron  de 
Vismes." 

Arthur  Guinness  took  the  lad's  hand,  smiling,  and 
saying,  "  Well,  if  he  is  to  be  one  of  my  young  men, 
it  will  be  best  that  he  lay  aside  his  title,  and  his  name 

is Yes,  I  remember  in  my  letter, — it  is  Henry. 

He  shall  be  for  us  plain  Henry,  after  the  manner  of 
Friends." 

Then  his  sister  excused  herself  and  went  out, 
leaving  them  to  discuss  the  lad's  future.  As  she 
climbed  the  stairs  her  limbs  became  weak,  and,  her 
features  relaxing,  her  face  too  grew  weary.  "  What 
have  I  done,"  she  said,  "  wherein  I  took  not  counsel 
with  the  Spirit?  These  are  thoughts  which  bring 
madness  :  I  will  not  harbor  them.  It  must  have  been 
done  wisely."  So  she  stood  a  moment  before  the 
tall  old  Wagstaffe  clock  which  faced  her  at  the  head 


HEPHZIBAH  GUINNESS  131 

of  the  stairs  ticking  solemnly.  Then  she  gathered 
up  her  strength,  saying,  "  Yet  a  little  while,  a  little 
while !  Why  dost  thou  mock  me  with  the  memory 
of  a  doubtful  hour  ?"  and  then  went  on  to  her  cham- 
ber in  silence.  Twice  as  she  moved  along  the  dark, 
cold  entry,  hearing  the  busy  ticking  close  behind  her, 
— twice  she  turned  resolutely,  with  a  feeling  as  if 
the  tall  old  coffin-like  clerk  of  Time  were  pursuing 
her  steps. 

As  she  closed  the  door  of  her  chamber  she  heard 
with  a  shiver  the  ample  ringing  tones  of  her  brother's 
voice.  It  was  for  her  just  then  a  sound  of  horror. 
Why,  she  did  not  pause  to  ask  herself:  perhaps  be- 
cause its  wholesome  pleasantness  was  in  too  sharp 
contrast  with  her  new  misery, — perhaps  because  it 
brought  before  her,  in  the  possible  form  of  a  severe 
judge,  the  man  she  loved  and  honored,  and  also  feared 
the  most.  Theirs  were  richly-contrasted  natures, — 
each  a  compound  of  what  Nature  and  a  creed  had 
made ;  for  earnestly-believing  people  are  themselves 
and  a  creed,  or  a  creed  and  themselves, — and  she  was 
a  creed  and  herself, — and  he  was  himself  above  all 
and  a  creed. 

Arthur  Guinness  was  saying  cheerily,  "  Will  you 
come  up  to  my  study  ?  We  smoke  no  pipes  in  my 

sister's  room,  because  it  pleases  her  not,  and 

Well,  in  my  room  here  it  will  be  no  offence  to  the 
tender-minded  among  Friends  who  may  chance  to 
come,  and  who  like  not  such  vanities." 

"  We  shall  have  pleasure  to  smoke  with  you,"  said 
the  abbe,  following  him. 

At  the  head  of  the  first  flight  of  stairs  Arthur 


132  HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS 

Guinness  passed  with  his  guests  into  a  room  in  the 
second  story  of  what  all  Philadelphians  know  as  the 
"back  buildings," — an  arrangement  which  in  later 
years  caused  a  witty  New  Yorker  to  say  that  Phila- 
delphians built  their  houses  like  frying-pans,  and  lived 
in  the  handles. 

The  room  was  sanded,  like  the  parlor,  but  was 
filled  with  books,  and  on  the  table  were  pipes  with 
long  reed  stems,  a  tobacco-pot,  and  two  handsome 
silver  tankards  with  arms  engraved  upon  them. 
Above  the  fire  was  a  genealogical  tree  of  the  Guin- 
ness family,  for,  like  many  Friends  even  to  this  day, 
Arthur  Guinness  took  a  certain  half-concealed  pride 
in  an  honorable  descent  from  ancient  Kentish  stock, 
and  valued  himself  more  than  he  cared  to  state  on 
his  store  of  heavy  plate. 

The  abbe's  eye  took  in  with  approval  the  sober 
luxury  and  air  of  culture  as  they  sat  down  to  their 
pipes,  while  their  host  went  on  to  say,  "  Well,  then, 
it  shall  be  so  arranged :  the  lad  comes  to  my  count- 
ing-house ;  and  if  thou  art  still  of  the  same  mind  on 
Third  day — which  is  to-morrow — I  will  go  with  thee 
to  Elizabeth  Howard,  who,  I  doubt  not,  will  be 
pleased  to  have  thee  instruct  her  niece  in  the  tongue 
of  France.  I  see  no  need  myself  that  a  child  of 
Friends  should  learn  these  foreign  tongues,  but  as 
her  guardian  I  have  been  somewhat  careful  not  to 
insist  too  much  on  my  own  views." 

"  I  shall  find  it  a  pleasant  task,  no  doubt,"  said  the 
abbe ;  "  and  might  I  ask  that  you  will  also  do  my 
nephew  the  honor  to  present  him  to  Miss  Howard, 
or  such  other  of  your  friends  as  may  make  it  pleasant 


HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS  133 

for  the  lad  ?  I  fear  he  may  find  it  triste  in  this  new 
land." 

Arthur  Guinness  hesitated :  "  Yes,  yes,  by  and  by. 
But  thou  wilt  pardon  me  if  I  ask  that  I  be  excused 
from  presenting  him  where  there  are  only  women. 
Friend  Elizabeth  hath  some  strong  notions  as  to  the 
bringing  up  of  the  child,  and  she  does  not  wish  that 
she  should  have  acquaintances  among  young  men. 
It  is  a  fancy,  but " 

"  Nay,  but  pardon  me,"  said  the  abbe.  "  I  meant 
not  to  ask  anything  unusual,  and  no  doubt  in  time 
he  will  find  friends." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Guinness.  "  Women  have  their 
ways, — women  have  their  ways ;  but  I  was  rrot  sorry 
to  mention  this,  because  thou  wilt  be  sure  to  like 
her,  and  what  more  natural  than  some  time  to  ask 
leave  to  take  with  thee  my  young  friend  here  ?  She 
would  without  doubt  say  no,  and  I  may  spare  thee 
annoyance." 

The  abbe  thought  this  frank  speech  strange  enough, 
and  young  De  Vismes,  who  listened  quietly,  felt  an 
odd  sense  of  disappointment ;  but  both  made  haste 
to  turn  the  chat  aside,  and  under  a  cloud  of  smoke 
they  talked  the  evening  away  pleasantly  enough. 

As  they  parted  at  the  door  Arthur  said,  laughingly, 
"  Thou  wilt  pardon,  I  am  sure,  what  I  have  said  of 
my  friend  Elizabeth  Howard.  She  hath  but  this  one 
strangeness,  and  in  all  else  thou  wilt  find  her  a  woman 
of  noble  ways  and  a  great  fulness  of  fresh  and  pleas- 
ant life." 

The  abbe  made  a  courteous  reply,  and  the  two 
strangers  went  away  somewhat  easier  in  mind. 


134  HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS 


CHAPTER    III. 

ON  the  morning  of  the  following  day,  Miss — or, 
as  it  was  the  usage  then  to  say  of  middle-aged,  un- 
married women,  Mistress — Elizabeth  Howard  sat  at 
the  window  of  her  house  near  the  corner  of  Front 
and  Shippen  Streets.  The  day  was  one  of  those  soft, 
still  October  gifts  when  the  sun  seems  warm  again, 
and  the  winds  stir  not,  and  leaves  cease  to  fall,  and 
the  changing  year  appears  to  relent  and  linger,  and 
the  southward-flitting  robin  loiters,  cheated  for  a  day. 
The  woman  sat  quietly  in  the  open  window,  a  stately 
and,  to  the  least  observant,  a  remarkable-looking 
person.  She  was  in  early  middle  life,  possibly  thirty- 
five.  The  outline  of  her  face  was  of  the  Roman  type, 
delicate  in  the  detail  of  the  light  proud  nostril,  and 
bold  and  noble  in  the  general  contour  of  feature. 
The  mouth  was  a  little  large,  but  clearly  cut,  the 
chin  full  and  decided.  Over  a  forehead  rather  high, 
and  more  strongly  moulded  than  is  common  in 
women,  clustered  plentiful  black  hair,  curled  short 
in  the  fashion  then  oddly  called  Brutus.  A  skin  of 
smooth  dark  rich  nectarine  bloom  made  soft  the  lines 
of  this  face,  which  in  repose  was  at  times  somewhat 
stern.  The  more  acute  observer  would  have  been 
struck  with  the  sombre,  thoughtful  air  of  command 
and  power  in  the  brow,  the  mysterious  sweetness  of 
the  dark-gray  eyes,  and  the  contradictory  lines  of 
mirth  and  humor  about  the  mouth. 


HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS  135 

Nature  had  here  formed  a  remarkable  character, 
and  circumstance  had  given  it  a  strange  part  to  play 
in  the  drama  of  life. 

In  the  garden  in  front  of  her  and  below  the  window, 
a  charming  contrast,  sat  her  niece  Marguerite,  not 
less  a  contrast  in  her  plainest  of  Friends'  dress  than 
in  the  blonde  beauty  of  her  young  and  fast-ripening 
form. 

Presently  the  large  blue  eyes  ceased  wandering 
from  the  book  on  her  lap  to  the  mottled  buttonwood 
bole  or  the  forms  of  passing  wayfarers  seen  between 
the  snowdrop-bushes.  "  I  promised  my  guardian  to 
read  it,"  she  said ;  and  the  blue  eyes  turned  up  to 
meet  the  friendly  gaze  above  her.  "  But  I  do  not 
like  the  man  in  the  book.  Thee  could  not  read  it  : 
thee  would  never  have  liked  Friend  Fox." 

"A  nice  Quaker  you  are!"  said  her  aunt,  laughing. 
"  Say  thou,  thou,  or  you  will  never  learn  to  speak  in 
meeting." 

"  I  never  want  to,"  cried  the  girl,  pouting.  "  I  like 
bright  things, — red  things,  blue  things.  I  was  never 
meant  to  be  a  Quaker.  Why  may  I  not  go  to 
Christ  Church  with  thee,  and  wear  gay  clothes  like 
the  trees,  aunty?  They  had  no  Fox.  I  wonder 
Master  Penn  did  not  run  away  when  he  saw  the  red 
hickories  and  the  yellow  maples.  I  will  not  read 
it ;"  and  so  saying  she  threw  the  book  on  the  grass, 
and  throwing  a  kiss  to  her  aunt  began  to  pluck  the 
bright  autumn  flowers  at  her  feet. 

"  The  way  was  set  for  you  by  another  will  than 
mine,"  said  her  aunt.  "Be  content  to  walk  in  it, 
Marguerite.  Perhaps  it  is  better  as  it  is." 


136  HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS 

"Perhaps,"  said  the  girl, — "yes,  perhaps;  but  when 
I  am  twenty-one  there  will  be  no  '  perhaps.'  " 

"  You  will  always  respect  the  wish  of  your  dead 
father,"  said  Miss  Howard. 

The  girl  looked  grave,  the  elder  woman  troubled. 

"  Is  Marguerite  a  Friend's  name  ?"  said  her  niece, 
pausing  and  facing  her. 

"  No,"  returned  her  aunt.  "  You  know  well,  my 
dear,  that  your  mother  was  a  Frenchwoman,  and 
that  you  bear  her  name." 

"  And  was  she  of  our  Society,  aunt  ?"  said  the  girl. 
"  I  wish  I  could  have  seen  her." 

"  I  wish  you  could,"  said  the  elder  woman,  ignoring 
the  question.  "  Ah,  I  must  hasten  to  ask  Hephzibah 
to  make  you  a  better  Quaker.  I  am  a  poor  teacher, 
I  think.  I  should  begin  by  dyeing  those  big  blue 
eyes  gray,  and  painting  those  red  cheeks  white,  as 
Hephzibah  did  her  brass  clock  last  year ;"  and  the 
two  laughed  merrily  at  the  remembrance. 

"  I  did  not  tell  you,"  said  the  elder,  "  that  I  had  a 
note  this  morning  telling  me  that  we  are  to  have  the 
honor  to-day  of  a  visit  from  a  committee  of  Friends. 
It  cannot  be  for  me,  and  I  suppose  it  is  about  some 
of  your  madcap  pranks." 

"  Oh,  not  for  me,  surely !"  said  the  girl,  a  little 
scared.  "  That  must  be  Hephzibah  Guinness's  doings. 
I  hate  her !" 

"  Hush !"  said  her  aunt,  smiling.  "  Here  she  comes, 
Get  thee  gone,  little  scamp !" 

"  Of  a  verity,  the  Spirit  persuadeth  me  to  depart," 
said  the  girl  under  her  breath ;  and  hastily  gathering 
her  flowers  in  her  lap  she  fled  around  the  corner  of 


HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS  137 

the  house,  dropping  asters,  Queen  Margarets,  and 
autumn  leaves  here  and  there  as  she  went. 

Her  aunt  rose  from  her  seat  and  went  across  the 
room  to  the  entry  to  open  the  door.  "  My  task  is 
too  hard,"  she  said, — "  too  hard.  The  past  is  so 
black,  and  the  future  so  dark ;  and,  ah  me !  I  am  so 
made  that  to-day  is  sunny  always.  How  can  life  be 
pleasant  to  me?  I  wonder  at  myself.  Come  in, 
Hephzibah ;"  and  so  saying  she  took  the  hand  of  the 
new-comer,  and  the  two  entered  the  parlor. 

It  was  a  room  of  another  kind  from  that  which 
Hephzibah  had  left,  and  under  her  Quaker  bonnet 
the  thin,  gaunt  face  darkened  grimly  as  she  looked 
about  her.  She  had  been  there  a  hundred  times 
before,  but  to-day,  as  always,  it  shocked  her  that 
any  one  should  think  needful  the  luxury  and  color 
with  which  Elizabeth  Howard  delighted  to  surround 
herself.  The  two  women  were  as  much  apart  as 
their  creeds  or  their  social  surroundings ;  and  as  I 
see  them  now  in  that  far-away  time,  in  the  wainscoted 
parlor,  they  are  to  me  sharp  and  vivid  pictures.  In 
a  high-backed  chair  of  exquisitely  carved  dark  ma- 
hogany sat  the  handsome,  richly-clad  lady,  one 
shapely  foot  on  the  shining  brass  fender  which 
fenced  in  a  lazy  wood-fire.  A  large  feather  fan 
guarded  her  face  from  the  blaze,  and,  when  she 
pleased,  from  the  keen  gaze  of  Hephzibah  Guinness, 
whose  stiff  gray  pent-house  bonnet  did  her  a  like 
service  at  times,  since  the  least  turn  of  the  head 
served  to  hide  her  face  from  view. 

These  two  women  were  made  by  Nature  to  dislike 
and  respect  one  another,  and  sometimes  the  dislike 


138  HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS 

was  uppermost,  and  sometimes  the  respect.  The 
chances  of  life  had  thrown  them  together,  since 
Marguerite  Howard  was  the  ward  of  Arthur  Guin- 
ness and  his  sister,  and  destined  by  her  father's  will 
to  be  educated  in  the  straitest  ways  of  Friends.  The 
male  guardian  had  come  by  degrees  to  concede  to 
his  sister  all  such  minor  details  as  concerned  the 
girl's  dress  and  manners.  And  to  this  strange  and, 
implacable  overseeing  on  the  part  of  the  Quakeress, 
Elizabeth  Howard  also  had  yielded  after  many  in- 
ward and  some  outward  struggles.  She  knew  that 
to  be  a  Friend  was  for  years,  at  least,  the  child's 
fate,  and  once  having  submitted  as  to  the  main  ques- 
tion, she  felt  that  rebellion  in  lesser  matters  was  un- 
wise, and  also  unfair  to  the  memory  of  the  brother 
who  had  thus  ordered  his  child's  life.  At  times 
Miss  Howard  rebelled,  but  chiefly  because  she  did 
not  dislike  a  skirmish  with  Hephzibah  Guinness,  and 
because  her  sense  of  humor  was  so  ungovernably 
strong  as  to  break  out  despite  her  better  judgment 
when  things  done  or  ordered  by  the  Quaker  guardians 
struck  her  as  amusing. 

On  the  other  hand,  Hephzibah  was  a  little  afraid 
of  Miss  Howard's  merciless  capacity  for  ridicule,  but 
was  quite  as  ready  as  she  to  cross  swords  in  defence 
of  her  own  views,  which,  owing  to  her  narrow,  well- 
fenced-in  life,  she  had  come  to  regard  with  the  entire 
respect  which  some  people  entertain  for  their  own 
opinions.  Indeed,  could  Hephzibah  Guinness  have 
blotted  out  one  doubtful  act  of  her  life,  it  is  probable 
that  she  would  have  regarded  herself  with  the  most 
absolute  approbation. 


HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS  139 

Elizabeth  Howard  was  not  to-day  in  the  best  of 
humors,  owing  chiefly  to  the  curt  note  which  told  her 
of  the  visit  of  a  committee  of  Friends, — an  incident 
of  which  she  had  already  some  previous  and  not  very 
agreeable  remembrances.  She  began  in  Friends'  lan- 
guage, which  she  used  but  rarely,  and  never  to 
Arthur  Guinness,  for  whom  she  was  surely  and  always 
her  noble  natural  self.  "  Wilt  thou  not  take  off  thy 
bonnet,  Hephzibah?"  she  said:  "the  room  is  warm." 

"  No,"  answered  Hephzibah,  absently ;  "  I  am  not 
warm." 

Then  the  bonnet  itself  struck  Miss  Howard  sud- 
denly in  an  absurd  point  of  view,  as  everything  good 
or  bad  did  at  some  time.  "  How  convenient,"  she 
added,  "  thy  bonnet  must  have  been  to  thee  in  thy 
younger  days !" 

"  Why  ?"  said  Hephzibah,  shortly. 

"  Well,  my  dear,  no  man  could  see  you  were  look- 
ing at  him ;  and  it's  such  a  nice  hiding-place :  a  fan 
is  a  trifle  to  it." 

"  I  had  other  and  wiser  occupation  in  my  youth," 
said  Hephzibah,  "  than  to  observe  young  men.  But 
I  have  noticed  that  nothing  is  too  serious  to  escape 
thy  tendency  to  ridicule." 

"  Bless  me !"  returned  Miss  Howard  :  "  is  a  Quaker 
bonnet  a  kind  of  saint's  halo  ?  I  see  nothing  serious 
in  it  except  your  face,  Hephzibah,  which  is  serious 
enough." 

"  How  is  Margaret  ?"  said  Hephzibah,  abruptly. 

"  As  usual,"  said  the  other,  feeling  with  a  sense  of 
comfort  that  her  rapier  had  gone  home.  "  Will  you 
see  her  ?" 


140  HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS 

"  No,"  said  the  Quakeress.  "  I  would  speak  with 
thee  of  a  matter  about  one  of  my  friends,  if  only 
thou  canst  put  away  thy  mirth  for  a  time  and  con- 
sider gravely  the  thing  I  would  say." 

"  Now,  my  dear,"  laughed  Miss  Howard,  "  I  shall 
be  as  serenely  judicious  as  the  clerk  of  Fourth  Street 
meeting.  But  have  you  not  known  me  well  enough 
and  long  enough  to  be  sure  that  if  I  do  not  get  my 
every-day  supply  of  laughter  I  must  die  ?" 

"  Thou  speakest  lightly  of  dying,"  returned  Heph- 
zibah. 

"  And  why  not  ?"  said  the  other.  "  I  do  not  know 
the  thing  on  earth  so  grim  or  grave  that  some  time 
it  has  not  a  mirthful  look.  Some  people  cry  and 
love  and  cry  and  pray.  I  believe  there  are  people 
who  can  smile  at  their  prayers  and  yet  pray  as  well. 
Let  us  live  our  lives  honestly.  I  should  laugh  at  a 
jest  if  I  were  dying, — ay,  and  fear  not  that  God 
would  frown.  What  is  it  I  can  do  for  you,  Heph- 
zibah  ?" 

The  Quakeress  hesitated  a  moment,  but  Miss  How- 
ard's last  phrase  was  spoken  kindly  and  gently.  "  I 
have  a — a  friend,"  said  Hephzibah,  halting  a  little  at 
the  unusual  task  of  equivocation.  "  I  have  a  friend 
to  whom  came  many  years  ago  a  chance  to  turn  the 
whole  life  of  a  young  person  from  the  vanity  of 
worldly  ways  and  the  teachings  of  a  hireling  minis- 
try by  hiding — no,  by  not  telling — something  which 
she  knew.  The  concealment  hurt  no  one,  and  saved 
a  life  from  the  vain  ways  of  the  world." 

"  Well  ?"  said  Elizabeth,  in  utter  amazement  at 
the  nature  of  the  statement  set  before  her. 


HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS  141 

"  I  think  well,"  went  on  Hephzibah,  "  of  thy  judg- 
ment, even  when  warped  by  the  errors  of  the  world. 
Wouldst  thou  not  have  done  the  like  ?" 

"  I  ?"  said  Elizabeth,  proudly, — "  I  ?  You  may 
well  ask  me  what  I  think  of  it, — of  such  a  thing ; 
but  to  ask  me  if  I  would  do  it !  How  can  you  cheat 
a  soul  into  righteousness?  This  comes  of  a  creed 
which  can  never  see  beyond  its  own  gray  horizon. 
How  could  you  dare  to  ask  me  such  a  question?" 
And  so  saying  the  woman  rose  and  stood  by  the  fire, 
looking  down  on  the  moveless  visage  of  Hephzibah. 
She  was  a  woman  with  a  sense  of  honor  found  rarely 
enough  among  men,  and  this  thing  stirred  her  as  an 
insult  disturbs  a  man. 

Meanwhile,  Hephzibah  repented  somewhat  her 
design  to  fortify  her  resolution  by  the  idea  of  what 
another  woman  whom  she  respected  might  think  of 
her  action.  "  I  think,"  she  said,  "  thou  hast  perhaps 
misunderstood  me." 

"  I  hope  so,"  said  Miss  Howard. 

Hephzibah  went  on :  "  But  the  thing  was  a  trifle, 
and  a  soul  may  have  been  saved  from  the  world." 

"  From  the  world  ?  nonsense !"  cried  Elizabeth, 
indignantly, — "  for  the  Society  of  Friends.  I  was 
wrong  to  speak  of  your  creed :  it  is  good  enough. 
But  people  interpret  creeds  oddly ;  and  your  friend 
who  could  have  formed  such  an  idea,  and  kept  up 
such  a  low  cheat,  must  have  looked  at  the  creed  of 
Fox  and  Barclay  as  one  looks  at  a  noble  landscape 
through  a  faulty  window-glass." 

"  I  did  not  mean  to  do  thee  a  hurt,"  said  Hephzibah, 
quietly.  "  Things  appear  differently  to  different  peo- 


142  HEPHZIBAH    GUINNESS 

pie.  I  never  supposed  the  matter  could  have  seemed 
so  monstrous  to  thee." 

"  Well,"  said  Miss  Howard, "  I  want  you  distinctly 
to  understand  me :  it  is  not  a  case  in  which  I  should 
like  to  be  misunderstood.  What  amazes  me  most 
about  it  is  that  you  should  ever  have  had  enough 
doubt  on  the  matter  to  make  it  worth  while  to  talk 
to  me  about  it." 

"  I  did,"  said  Hephzibah,  firmly,  "  but  it  is  as  well 
to  drop  it  now.  Where  is  Margaret  ?" 

"  Marguerite  is  in  the  garden,"  said  Miss  Howard, 
coldly.  "  I  will  call  her." 

"  Before  thou  goest,"  said  Hephzibah,  "  I  would 
say  that  I  think  no  worse  of  myself  to  have  asked 
thee  a  question." 

"  It  seems  to  me,  Hephzibah,"  returned  Miss  How- 
ard, "  that  we  are  about  to  go  over  the  same  ground 
again." 

"  Well,  I  have  in  no  wise  changed  my  opinion," 
continued  the  Quakeress,  "  and,  as  thou  knowest,  I 
am  not  wont  to  change." 

"  No,"  said  Miss  Howard,  smoothing  her  dress, — 
"no;  but  why  you  should  not  now  and  then,  for 
variety,  I  do  not  see." 

"  Because,"  said  Hephzibah,  sitting  very  erect  in 
her  chair,  and  speaking  with  so  expressionless  a  vis- 
age that  it  became  a  wonderful  thing  how  the  mouth 
had  lost  acquaintance  with  the  other  features  and 
ceased  to  receive  their  assistance, — "  because  I  am 
always  right." 

Miss  Howard  broke  into  the  most  merry  of  smiles. 
Her  face  was  as  wonderful  in  its  power  of  change  as 


HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS  143 

was  Hephzibah's  in  its  frozen  stillness.  "  Oh,  Heph- 
zibah,  what  a  delightful  woman  you  are  !"  she  said. 
"  I  shall  think  of  you  all  day  for  this."  And  over  her 
mobile  face  flew  gleams  as  it  were  of  sarcastic  expres- 
sion and  little  storms  of  mirthful,  half-controlled 
laughter.  Then  she  paused  a  moment  as  she  crossed 
the  room,  and  turning  said,  "  But  if  you  are  always 
right,  Hephzibah  Guinness,  why  not  decide  the  ques- 
tion yourself  for  your  friend  ?  A  Quaker  pope  who 
is  infallible  should  not  ask  help  of  the  ungodly." 

Hephzibah  said,  quietly,  "  With  help  of  the  Spirit 
we  cannot  err,  but  I  am  not  always  sure.  I  do 
not  think  we  should  be  always  sure  that  we  have 
spiritual  guiding.  I  meant  that  we  are  right  when 
we  try  to  be  right.  There  is  the  right  of  holiness 
and  men's  right.  But  I  should  have  known  that  it 
was  not  well  to  carry  my  burden  to  one  whose 
feet  go  along  ways  of  ease  and  luxury,  and  have 
never  had  to  choose  which  of  two  thorny  ways  to 
tread." 

Hephzibah  looked  up  as  she  spoke,  and  was 
shocked  at  the  ghastliness  of  the  face  before  her, 
which  but  a  moment  ago  was  alive  with  mirth.  But 
the  soul  of  a  queen  lay  behind  it,  and  a  stern  effort 
of  will  put  down  the  unusual  revolt  in  the  woman's 
features.  The  doubts  which  arose  in  the  heart  of  the 
Quakeress  and  broke  into  speech  had  power  to  call 
up  for  the  other  woman  thoughts,  remembrances, 
and  difficult  decisions  which  rushed  upon  her  at  once 
like  an  army  of  remembered  evils,  but  were  mastered 
again  of  a  sudden,  almost  before  Hephzibah  had 
time  to  wonder. 


144  HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS 

Miss  Howard  wished  to  say  nothing  or  to  put  the 
thing  aside,  but  even  for  her  strong  will  Nature  was 
too  powerful,  and  leaning  across  a  chair-back,  which 
she  clutched  with  both  hands,  she  said,  "  The  past  is 
its  own.  Bury  it,  bury  it,  Hephzibah  Guinness,  and 
as  you  value  your  chance  to  enter  this  house,  never, 
never  again  speak  to  me  of  what  I  may  have  felt  or 
done  or  suffered.  It  is  a  liberty,  madam, — a  liberty 
which  I  allow  to  no  one." 

"  But  thou  knowest "  broke  in  Hephzibah. 

"  Enough !"  returned  Miss  Howard,  relieved  and 
steadied  by  her  passion  of  words,  as  emotion  is  al- 
ways relieved  by  its  outward  expression.  "  Let  us 
say  no  more  of  it.  I  have  made  a  fool  of  myself,  I 
dare  say,  and  you  must  only  remember  what  I  meant, 
and  not  how  I  said  it.  For  that  I  am  sorry,  because 
— well,  because  this  is  my  own  house.  I  will  call 
Marguerite,"  but  as  she  turned  the  girl  she  sought 
came  dancing  into  the  room,  and  at  first,  not  seeing 
Hephzibah,  who  was  hidden  by  her  aunt's  form, 
caught  up  her  gown  and  with  infinite  demureness 
and  grace  made  a  low,  sweeping  courtesy,  exclaiming, 
"  You  see  I  have  not  forgotten  it,  Aunt  Bess  ?  Isn't 
that  the  way  they  do  it  in  the  minuet  ?  So, — not  too 
fast Oh!"  And  she  caught  sight  of  Heph- 
zibah, whom  she  both  disliked  and  feared,  and  at 
once  became  erect  and  quiet. 

The  Quakeress  looked  at  her  sternly,  while  Miss 
Howard,  passing  the  girl,  said,  "  I  leave  you  with 
Marguerite,  Hephzibah :  I  shall  come  back  in  a  few 
minutes." 

As  she  went  by  her  niece  the  girl  plucked  at  her 


HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS  145 

dress  furtively,  and  said  in  a  whisper,  "  Thee  will  not 
go,  Aunt  Bess  ?" 

"  Chut,  child !"  murmured  her  aunt,  bending  down 
to  kiss  her,  "  she  will  not  eat  you ;  and  if  she  did, 
you  would  surely  disagree  with  her." 

As  Miss  Howard  left  the  room  she  reflected,  "  If 
I  stay  I  shall  only  quarrel  again  with  that  woman. 
Better  to  go.  Poor  Marguerite !" 

Meanwhile,  the  child  stood  in  front  of  Hephzibah, 
a  figure  of  guilty  terror :  children  in  those  days  stood 
before  their  elders  until  invited  to  sit  down.  Heph- 
zibah was  somewhat  near-sighted,  and  this  Marguerite 
knew.  "  Wouldst  thou  kindly  excuse  me  a  moment  ?" 
she  said :  "  I  will  soon  be  back  again." 

"  Come  here,"  replied  Hephzibah,  curtly,  "  and  sit 
down." 

Marguerite  was  holding  behind  her,  in  vain  hope 
to  hide  it,  a  long  skirt  of  gorgeous  brocade  which 
she  had  borrowed  from  her  aunt's  wardrobe  for  her 
little  bit  of  masquerade.  As  she  sat  down  Hephzibah 
caught  sight  of  the  unlucky  gown.  "  And  shall  this 
child,  after  all,  go  from  us  ?"  she  said.  Then,  turn- 
ing to  the  culprit,  she  went  on,  not  unkindly:  "A 
concern  hath  been  borne  in  upon  my  mind,  child, 
that  thou  shouldst  be  preserved  in  the  meek  life  of 
truth.  There  are  those  who  esteem  lightly  our  testi- 
mony to  plainness  in  attire.  What  is  this  that  I  see  ?" 
And  she  took  up  the  edge  of  the  broidered  dress. 
"  Why  dost  thou  so  offend  against  the  discipline  ?" 

Marguerite  had  much  of  her  aunt's  force  of  char- 
acter, and  by  this  time  had  recovered  her  composure. 
"  Is  it  wicked  ?"  she  said. 


146  HEPHZIBAH  GUINNESS 

"It  will  lead  thee  to  no  steadfast  haven,"  said 
Hephzibah,  "and  the  judgments  of  youth  are  vain 
judgments." 

"  But  is  it  wicked  ?"  she  persisted,  with  set  lips. 

"  It  is  not  for  thee  to  question  the  example  of  thy 
elders." 

"  Then  Aunt  Bess  is  wicked,"  said  Marguerite, 
sturdily. 

"  She  is  hedged  about  with  the  snares  of  the  world," 
said  Hephzibah,  sternly,  "  and  hath  counselled  thee 
unwisely." 

"  I  will  not  hear  her  so  spoken  of,"  answered 
Marguerite,  flushing  half  with  anger,  half  in  shame, 
at  this  her  first  open  outbreak.  "  She  is  the  best 
woman  God  ever  made :  I  wish  I  were  like  her." 

Hephzibah  disregarded  the  answer :  "  Dost  thou 
read  the  Word  ?  What  portion  art  thou  now  read- 
ing?" 

"  Revelations,"  said  the  girl,  shyly. 

"  And  what  hast  thou  gathered  of  good  from 
them  ?"  returned  Hephzibah. 

The  child's  face  lit  up :  "  I  was  made  to  think " 

and  she  paused,  not  having  meant  to  speak  out  her 
thoughts. 

"  Nay,  child,"  said  Hephzibah, "  say  thy  speech  out : 
I  may  come  to  understand  thee  better." 

"  I — I  thought  what  would  Penn  and  Fox  say 
when  they  saw  the  gold  pavements  and  the  crystal 
walls  and  the  color  and  beauty  of  the  Master's 
house  ?" 

"  Surely  the  Great  Enemy  hath  tempted  thee,"  said 
Hephzibah.  "  Go  to  thy  room  and  seek  to  be  more 


HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS  147 

wisely  guided.  Nay,  wait,"  she  added : "  thou  shouldst 
be  punished."  And  she  detained  her  by  the  wicked 
skirt  as  two  men  in  the  plainest  dress  of  Friends  en- 
tered the  room  and  looked  with  amazement  at  the 
child's  attire  and  her  filling  eyes.  "  Friends,  you  are 
come  in  good  season,"  said  Hephzibah,  addressing 
them. 

At  the  time  of  which  we  speak  there  had  arisen 
among  Friends  what  were  then  termed  "  great 
searchings  of  heart"  concerning  the  preservation 
of  discipline  in  the  matter  of  dress  and  furniture. 
Mirrors  were  taken  down;  brass  clocks  received  a 
coat  of  drab  paint ;  in  one  case  two  aged  Friends,  on 
paying  a  visit  to  a  rather  lax  member  of  the  Society, 
were  shocked  to  find  on  her  floor  the  rare  luxury 
of  a  dark  carpet  with  red  spots,  over  which  they 
stepped,  lifting  their  gowns  and  picking  their  way  in 
grim  reprobation.  This  is  said  to  have  so  much 
annoyed  their  hostess  that  when  they  left  she  bore 
her  testimony  by  carefully  inking  out  all  the  offend- 
ing spots  of  red. 

The  two  Friends  whose  entry  we  have  noted  were 
overseers  appointed  by  Meeting  to  examine  into  and 
correct  breaches  of  discipline,  and,  regarding  Mar- 
guerite as  in  a  specially  dangerous  state,  had  called 
to  remonstrate  with  her  aunt  concerning  some  points 
as  to  which  rumor  had  reached  them.  Although 
living  with  her  aunt,  she  was  known  to  be  really  the 
ward  of  Arthur  and  Hephzibah  Guinness,  and  to  be 
in  all  spiritual  matters  within  their  control. 

As  they  entered,  Miss  Howard,  returning,  met  them 
with  her  stateliest  courtesy.  "  I  received  a  letter  to- 


148  HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS 

day,"  she  said,  "  about  my  niece :  what  is  there  we 
can  do  to  aid  you  ?" 

"  They  are  come  in  good  time,"  said  Hephzibah, 
pointing  to  the  poor  girl's  dress. 

"  Oh,  my  poor  little  woman  !"  returned  Elizabeth, 
taking  the  child  by  the  waist  and  holding  her  close 
to  her.  "This  was  but  a  child's  frolic.  I  beg  no 
more  be  said  of  it." 

"  It  is  of  no  great  moment,"  answered  the  older  of 
the  men,  "  but  we  shall  bid  her  to  consider  that  she 
transgress  not  in  future  as  to  plainness  of  dress,  and 
also  of  demeanor." 

Elizabeth  Howard  flushed  a  little,  but  made  no 
answer.  She  never  ceased  to  fear  that  the  child 
whom  she  so  tenderly  loved  would  be  taken  from 
her,  as  would  surely  have  been  the  case  had  Hephzi- 
bah been  able  to  convince  her  brother  that  this  was 
either  wise  or  right. 

"  What  further  can  I  do  ?"  said  Miss  Howard.  "  I 
shall  endeavor  hereafter  to  see  that  she  walks  more 
straitly  in  the  way  you  desire  her  to  go." 

"  It  is  all,"  said  the  elder  of  the  two.  "  We  thank 
thee,  friend  Elizabeth  Howard,  for  thy  courtesy  and 
temperateness,  and  will  be  going." 

But  Hephzibah  felt  moved  to  speak,  and  said,  has- 
tily, "  As  the  child's  guardian  I  would  think  it  well 
that  you  asked  leave  of  her  aunt  to  see  that  her 
chamber  conform  somewhat  more  than  it  now  doth 
to  the  plainness  of  Friends'  dwellings.  Because  she 
is  permitted  to  live  with  Elizabeth  Howard,  there  is 
the  more  reason  to  ask  that  the  child  depart  not  from 
the  teaching  and  simplicity  of  Friends." 


HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS  149 

"  I  do  not  permit  strangers  to  wander  through  my 
house,"  said  Miss  Howard.  "  This  has  gone  far 
enough.  My  temper  is  not  unnaturally  good,  and  I 
beg  that  it  be  not  tried  beyond  what  it  may  bear." 

"  What  is  this  ?"  said  Arthur  Guinness,  coming  at 
this  moment  into  the  parlor,  his  good-humored, 
handsome  face  lifted  by  his  tall  form  above  the 
group. 

"  A  star-chamber  inquiry,"  said  Miss  Howard,  with 
some  heat. 

Now  the  guardian  had  been  much  tried  of  late  by 
the  over-zealous,  who  thought  him  derelict  in  leav- 
ing his  ward  with  her  worldly  aunt,  and  he  wished  to 
appease  all  concerned  and  to  keep  the  peace. 

The  elder  overseer  explained  the  case,  to  the  inter- 
nal amusement  of  Arthur,  who  said,  after  a  pause,  "  I 
agree  with  Miss  Howard,  but  possibly  she  will  oblige 
me  by  allowing  thee  to  see  the  room  where  Margue- 
rite hath  her  lessons." 

Arthur  Guinness  had  much  weight  with  Miss 
Howard,  and  his  mixture  of  grave  sweetness  and 
strong  sense  of  duty,  coupled  with  a  keen  and  ready 
humor,  all  appealed  to  her  pleasantly.  "  Well,  yes," 
she  said :  "  that  is  really  the  child's  home  in  this 
house,  as  far  as  she  has  one  apart,  for  she  sleeps  in 
my  own  chamber.  Come,  and  you  shall  see  for 
yourselves,  and  what  you  do  not  like  shall  be 
amended." 

Upon  this  she  turned,  and,  followed  by  the  over- 
seers, Hephzibah,  and  Arthur,  led  them  up-stairs  into 
a  little  sitting-room.  It  was  so  plainly  furnished 
with  books  and  a  simple  table  and  chairs  that  she 


150  HEPHZIBAH    GUINNESS 

felt  herself  triumphantly  secure.  Unluckily,  between 
the  windows  hung  a  large  round  convex  mirror  sur- 
mounted by  a  gilded  eagle  and  adorned  after  the 
French  fashion  with  chains  and  elaborate  projecting 
scroll-work.  The  two  overseers  paused  before  it. 

"  Thou  wouldst  do  well,  friend  Arthur,  to  remove 
this  vain  temptation,"  said  the  younger. 

"  Friend  Howard  will  no  doubt  thus  oblige  us," 
said  Arthur,  with  a  gleam  of  amusement  in  his  face. 

"  But,"  said  Miss  Howard,  "it  is  the  child's.  It 
belonged  to  her  father,  and  I  gave  it  to  her." 

"  If  it  be  thus,"  answered  the  older  Friend,  "  it 
were  seemly  that  we  dealt  with  it  as  many  Friends 
have  of  late  submitted  to  have  done  with  superfluous 
ornament." 

"  As  you  will,"  said  Miss  Howard,  while  Margue- 
rite watched  the  group  in  profound  curiosity. 

Upon  this  the  Friend  produced  from  under  the  flap 
of  his  strait  coat  a  long  saw,  and  advanced  upon  the 
unfortunate  mirror. 

"What  will  he  do?"  said  the  child,  alarmed  for 
her  small  property. 

"  We  shall  but  remove  some  of  these  needless 
ornaments,"  he  said. 

Elizabeth  smiled.  "Will  you  pardon  me?"  she 
said,  taking  the  saw  from  his  hand.  "  I  am  converted 
to  your  ways  of  thinking,  and  it  seems  to  me  that 
the  handle  of  this  useful  tool  has  also  a  needless 
curving  of  vain  scroll-work  which  cannot  add  to  its 
usefulness.  I  shall  be  back  in  a  moment."  And  so 
saying  she  walked  out  of  the  room,  leaving  the 
Friends  to  make  what  comments  they  pleased.  In 


HEPHZIBAH    GUINNESS  151 

a  few  moments  she  came  back,  saying,  "  Thou  seest 
I  have,  with  the  help  of  my  man  John  and  his  wood- 
saw,  despoiled  the  tool  of  its  vain  ornaments."  In 
fact,  she  had  had  the  handle  sawn  off 

Arthur  Guinness  looked  at  the  useless  tool  and 
the  blank  faces  of  the  overseers  and  the  austere 
visage  of  his  sister. 

"  It  is  not  of  much  use,  friend  Elizabeth,  in  its 
present  state.  It  seems  to  me,"  added  the  overseer, 
"  we  have  in  this  matter  been  trifled  with.  The  child 
should,  we  think,  be  removed." 

Miss  Howard  broke  in.  "  Enough  of  this !"  she 
said.  "  I  told  you  my  temper  was  short.  You  touch 
nothing  in  my  house,  come  what  may.  I  have  done 
my  best,  with  better  help  from  One  I  name  not  lightly, 
to  keep  this  child  in  wise  and  wholesome  ways.  I 
will  be  ruled  by  you  no  longer.  As  to  these  trifles, 
which  I  think  valueless  or  worse " 

"  Then  we  had  as  well  go,"  said  Hephzibah. 

"You  have  spoken  the  first  words  of  wisdom  I 
have  heard  to-day,"  said  her  hostess.  And  so  with 
few  words  all  excepting  Guinness  departed,  appar- 
ently, save  Hephzibah,  without  the  least  show  of 
feeling  or  ill  temper. 

As  they  left  the  street-door  the  older  man  said, 
quietly,  "  Thou  wilt  do  well  to  reflect ;"  and  this  was 
all. 

"I  have  reflected,"  said  Miss  Howard.  "Good- 
morning." 


152  HEPHZIBAH    GUINNESS 


CHAPTER    IV. 

ARTHUR  GUINNESS  awaited  Miss  Howard's  return 
in  the  parlor,  walking  to  and  fro  under  the  half-dozen 
portraits  by  Copley  and  Stuart,  and  in  and  out,  as  a 
meditative  man  might  do,  among  the  nests  of  Chinese 
tea-poys,  the  carved  chairs,  and  India  cabinets.  The 
walls  were  covered  with  small  crimson  squares  of 
wall-paper,  then  just  introduced,  and  the  Quaker's 
foot  fell  noiselessly  on  the  rich  brown  and  yellow  and 
red  of  a  Turkey  carpet.  Arthur  looked  about  him 
at  the  gay  bits  of  china,  and  the  masses  of  sombre 
color  relieved  by  the  brasses  of  the  fire-dogs  and 
fender  and  the  flickering  glow  of  the  hickory  back- 
log. Somehow  it  came  to  him,  as  it  had  done  before, 
that  it  was  pleasant,  and  that  something  in  its  well- 
attuned  harmony  made  him  comfortable  and  soothed 
him  after  the  irritations  through  which  he  had  just 
passed.  He  was  of  a  speculative  turn  of  mind,  and 
was  reflecting  what  a  colorless  world  would  be  like, 
and  how  it  would  influence  men.  Then  he  paused 
to  wonder  what  had  become  of  Elizabeth,  little 
dreaming  that  for  the  past  five  minutes  she  had  been 
standing  in  the  entry  with  her  hand  on  the  door,  hes- 
itating as  she  rarely  hesitated.  At  last  she  steadied 
herself,  and  entered  the  room.  Her  decision  once 
made,  her  natural  sense  of  the  humor  of  the  scene 
she  had  gone  through  returned  with  full  force,  and 
as  she  came  forward  and  shook  hands  with  Arthur 


HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS  153 

Guinness  she  was  laughing  with  the  keenest  relish 
of  the  elders'  defeat. 

"  That  was  a  rout,"  she  said. 

"  Some  victories  are  worse  than  defeats,"  returned 
Gumness. 

Miss  Howard's  face  fell.  "  You  will  never  give  up 
to  them  ?"  she  said.  "  You  will  never  take  her  from 
me  ?  Promise  me  you  will  not" 

"  Thou  art  safe  as  to  that,"  he  said ;  "  but  where- 
fore make  my  task  somewhat  harder  than  it  need  be  ? 
Thou  knowest  that  I  must  sympathize  with  my  own 
people.  It  would  have  been  easy  for  thee  to  yield 
in  a  matter  so  small." 

"  I  could  not,"  she  said ;  "  and  if  I  know  that  you 
must  sympathize  with  the  folly  of  such  extremes,  I 
know  also  that  you  do  not  go  such  lengths  willingly ; 
and  it  is  enough  for  me  to  feel  sure  that  you  will  not 
part  the  child  from  me." 

"  But  reflect  a  moment,"  he  said.  "  If  perchance 
I  were  to  die, — as  might  be, — where,  then,  wouldst 
thou  be  in  this  matter  ?  My  sister  would  not  hesitate 
a  moment." 

Elizabeth  looked  kindly  up  at  his  stalwart  strength 
and  smiled.  "  If  you  died  life  would  be  little  to  me," 
she  said. 

"And  yet,"  he  went  on,  coloring  with  pleasure, 
"  thou  wouldst  still  have  duties,  and  most  of  all  to 
this  child." 

"  I  do  not  think  I  should  care  then  for  anything. 
No,  I  do  not  mean  that :  you  know  what  I  mean." 

"  Yes,"  he  said.  "  I  do,  and  I  do  not.  When  years 
ago  thou  earnest  here  from  Carolina  to  meet  the  or- 


154  HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS 

phan  of  thy  only  brother,  sent  from  France  to  join 
thee,  thou  didst  find  me  and  my  sister,  whom  he  had 
formerly  known  here,  left  guardians  of  the  little  one 
under  thy  brother's  will.  He,  like  myself,  was  a 
Friend :  thou  hadst  left  us  to  take  the  creed  of  thy 
mother.  But  I  need  not  remind  thee  of  all  this 
afresh." 

"  No.  It  is  still  a  wonder  to  me,"  she  said.  "  It 
has  been  one  long  struggle  to  do  right  in  the  face 
of  endless  embarrassments.  I  may  have  failed " 

"Thou  hast  never  failed  to  do  what  seemed  to 
thee  right,"  he  returned,  "  and  wilt  not  ever  fail.  But 
through  all  these  long  years  I  have  loved  thee  as  men 
rarely  love.  Nay,  thou  wilt  not  hinder  me :  let  me 
speak.  I  love  thee  still.  Time  went  on,  and  I  came 
to  know  that  while  thou  didst  also  love  me " 

"  I  never  said  so,"  she  cried. 

"  But  thou  dost,  thou  dost,  Elizabeth !  Thou  wilt 
not  say  it,  but  thou  wilt  not  say  it  is  not  so." 

She  was  silent,  and  the  dark  look  of  sombre  sad- 
ness grew,  as  it  often  did,  upon  her  face,  so  that  it 
seemed  strange  that  such  a  face  could  ever  smile. 

"  Thou  art  silent,"  he  said.  "  Year  after  year  I 
have  asked  thee  to  say  what  barrier  stands  between 
us." 

"  But  you  could  not :  you  are  a  Friend.  It  is  for- 
bidden to  you  to  choose  where  you  will." 

A  great  passion,  half  restrained  for  years,  broke 
loose  and  took  fierce  possession  of  him.  "  I  have 
taken  wiser  counsel  than  thine  or  mine,"  he  said. 
"  No  man's  will  or  wish  should  come  between  us. 
Speak,  Elizabeth !  Are  they  of  Divine  setting,  the 


HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS  155 

bounds  thou  wilt  not  break  ?  Is  it  a  sin  to  love  me  ? 
Nay,  that  cannot  be,  for  thou  dost  love  me.  Oh,  my 
darling,  speak  to  me!  Who  will  more  honestly 
counsel  thee  than  I  ?  who  will  more  surely  set  him- 
self aside  to  hear  and  help  thee  ?" 

Miss  Howard  dropped  into  a  chair  and  burst  into 
tears,  covering  her  face  with  her  hands,  and  shaken 
to  the  heart's  core  by  the  awful  earnestness  of  the 
man  and  the  terror  of  indecision  which  stole  upon 
her  lonely  life. 

"  Wilt  thou  not  speak  ?"  he  said. 

"  Nay,  wait,"  she  pleaded. 

"  I  have  waited  long,"  he  answered. 

Then  she  lifted  her  head  and  saw  the  desolation  of 
anxiety,  of  grief  and  pity  in  the  brave  face  she  had 
learned  to  love  so  well.  "  I  cannot  bear  this,"  she 
went  on.  "  I  will  speak  though  I  die." 

"  But  I  cannot  so  hurt  thee,"  he  returned. 

"  No,  I  must  speak  now,  for  now  as  well  as  any 
day  it  may  be  told.  Listen,  and  listen  well,  for  never 
again  shall  I  speak  to  you  of  this.  It  is  my  life  I 
must  tell  you, — my  life." 

Then  the  two  were  still  a  moment  while  she  reso- 
lutely regained  the  mastery  over  herself. 

"  I  could  tell  you  a  long  story,"  she  said  :  "  I  will 
tell  you  a  short  one.  I  can  tell  it  in  one  brief  death- 
bed scene, — my  father's.  I  shall  never  forget  it.  We 
were  within  hearing  of  the  guns  at  the  siege  o*" 
Charleston,  and  my  father  was  dying,  and  my  mother 
away,  and  I  was  a  lonely  child ;  and  I  can  see  the 
room  and  the  curtained  bed,  and  the  negroes  about 
the  door,  and  I  only  near, — I  only  of  all  who  loved 


156  HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS 

him.  Then  I  recall  the  old  black  nurse  saying, 
'  Honey,  de  massa  want  you ;'  and  I  was  pushed 
forward  to  the  bed.  And  I  remember  the  curtained 
gloom,  and  the  thin  and  wasted  face  within.  And 
then  I  remember  this,  my  father  saying,  '  Step  back, 
aunty,' — you  know  how  we  call  old  negresses  aunty, 
— '  I  want  to  talk  to  the  child,  and  my  time  grows 
short.' 

"  After  this  I  saw  his  great  gray  eyes  looking  sus- 
piciously about  until  he  made  sure  no  one  was  near 
to  hear ;  and  when  he  was  sure  he  said,  '  Save  thy 
brother,  my  child,  there  is  no  one  but  thee  alive  of 
all  my  race ;  and  if  I  could  see  thy  mother  now,  I 
would  spare  thee  this,  but  I  cannot.  Therefore,  thou 
who  art  a  child  must  be  as  a  grown  woman,  and  re- 
member what  I  tell  thee,  and  speak  of  it  to  none 
unless  thou  must.  I  want  thee  to  promise  me  that 
thou  wilt  never  marry,  because,  my  child,  thou  comest 
of  an  unhappy  race.  But  when  thou  art  older  thou 
wilt  look  in  a  book  which  is  in  my  desk,  and  which 
thy  mother  will  give  thee,  and  then  thou  wilt  see 
what  I  mean,  and  thou  wilt  know  why  I  say  all  this. 
And  now  I  may  not  speak  to  thee  longer;  and  I 
want  thee  to  say  only  this,  that  thou  wilt  look  in  the 
book,  and  if  I  seem  to  thee  to  be  right  and  just,  thou 
wilt  do  as  I  say.'  Then  he  spoke  no  more  for  a 
moment,  until  at  last  he  said,  '  Kiss  me ;'  and  after 
this  my  old  black  nurse  lifted  me  up  on  to  the  high 
bed,  and  I  kissed  him  and  wondered  why  his  breath 
was  cold  and  why  he  did  not  take  me  in  his  arms ; 
and  then,  although  I  cried,  they  took  me  away.  This 
is  all.  And will  you  wait  a  moment  ?" 


HEPHZIBAH    GUINNESS  157 

Saying  this,  she  rose  and  walked  steadily  out  of 
the  room,  while  Arthur  Guinness  sat  with  arms 
crossed  on  his  breast,  awaiting  her  return.  In  a  few 
moments  she  came  back,  and  with  a  face  like  that 
of  a  judge  delivering  sentence  of  death  she  came 
towards  Arthur,  who  rose  to  meet  her,  and  said,  "  My 
friend,  this  is  it :  read  it,  and  you  will  think  with  me. 
Read  it,  and  you  will  never  more  ask  me  to  marry. 
And  now  that  it  is  done,  how  much  easier  it  seems 
than  I  thought  it !  Perhaps,  Arthur,  because  the 
burden  is  shifted  on  to  other  shoulders." 

Arthur  smiled :  "  When  dost  thou  want  this  book 
again  ?  May  I  look  at  it  now  ?" 

"No,  no,  not  now,"  she  replied,  shuddering.  "You 
must  read  it  away  from  here.  I — I — do  not  want  to 
see  your  face  when  you  read  it." 

"  Well,  well,  Elizabeth,"  he  said,  cheerily,  "  I  shall 
do  as  thou  sayest ;  but  it  must  be  bad,  indeed,  to  be 
as  awful  as  thou  seemest  to  think  it." 

"  It  is  awful,"  she  answered.  "  When  you  have 
done  with  it,  leave  it  here  for  me  if  I  am  out, — in  the 
drawer  of  this  table.  Good-by,  Arthur." 

"  Farewell,  Elizabeth." 

As  he  left  the  house,  Arthur  Guinness  looked 
curiously  a  moment  at  the  faded  little  memorandum- 
book  tied  about  with  ribbon,  and  putting  it  in  his 
breast-pocket  went  away  down  Front  Street  to  his 
own  home.  Seeking  his  study  in  the  back  building, 
he  laid  the  book  on  his  table,  and  leisurely  filling 
and  lighting  a  pipe,  let  the  bowl  rest  on  his  knee 
and  thought  a  moment.  He  was  more  shaken  and 
troubled  than  he  cared  to  admit,  even  to  himself,  and 


158  HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS 

was  calmly  waiting  until  he  should  feel  himself  once 
more  fully  master  of  his  own  emotions.  Then  he 
opened  the  book,  and  this  was  what  he  found : 

"  MY    DEAR    AND     ONLY     DAUGHTER,    ELIZABETH, 

Save  thy  brother,  thou  art  the  last  of  a  race  which 
has  known  so  much  more  of  sorrow  than  of  joy 
that  I  beg  of  thee  solemnly  to  consider  what  I  have 
here  written,  that  if  it  seem  good  to  thee  thou 
mayest  come  to  see  the  matter  as  I  see  it,  and  to 
fulfil  my  wish,  so  that  by  never  marrying  our  family 
misery  may  fall  upon  no  others,  and  may  end  with 
us.  HENRY  HOWARD. 

"  MARCH  10,  1777." 

Then  came  a  number  of  entries : 

"  Richard  Howard,  of  the  Larches,  Denbighshire, 
died  Sept.  3,  1699,  by  his  own  hand. 

"  Of  his  brothers,  John  and  Nicholas  likewise  thus 
perished. 

"  Margaret  Wortley,  aet.  30,  daughter  of  Rd. 
Howard,  died  insane. 

"  The  grandsons  of  Rd.  Howard  were  thy  uncles  ; 
and  of  them  none  are  left,  they  dying  mostly  of 
self-murder  in  like  manner,  but  happily  in  foreign 
parts,  so  that  the  way  of  it  is  not  known  at  home. 

"  And  now  are  left  only  thou  and  thy  brother,  who, 
thinking  on  this  matter  with  me,  will  die  without 
issue. 

"  And  so  may  we  all  find  peace !" 

Arthur  Guinness  let  his  pipe  fall  on  the  floor,  and 


'HEPHZIBAH  GUINNESS  159 

turning  to  the  table  sat  motionless,  his  chin  on  his 
hands,  staring,  as  it  were,  with  sad  eyes  into  the 
future.  He  saw  dim,  changeful  pictures  of  pros- 
perous days  to  come,  of  a  happy  wife,  of  sons  and 
daughters  about  his  knees.  Then  he  saw  them  grown 
up,  and  shuddering  rose  and  walked  to  and  fro  in 
the  room,  until  at  last,  feeling  some  fierce  craving 
for  larger  movement,  he  took  his  hat  and  leaving 
the  house  strode  hurriedly  away  towards  the  Schuyl- 
kill.  To  the  day  of  his  death  he  never  forgot  those 
hours  of  dumb  agony.  But  long  before  night  fell 
the  strong  habits  of  duty  and  faithful  allegiance  to 
common  sense  had  brought  him  to  the  same  de- 
cision which  had  guided  and  darkened  the  life  of 
Elizabeth. 

His  walk  took  him  along  the  willowy  margin  of 
the  river,  and  at  last  across  the  floating  bridge  at 
Gray's  Ferry,  and  so  up  to  the  high  ground  which 
lay  back  of  Woodlands.  At  first  there  was  in  all 
his  heart  a  sea  of  tameless  passion,  pent  up  for  years, 
and  only  set  free  a  moment,  to  be  ordered  at  the 
next  into  quiet  by  a  voice  to  him  as  potent  as  that 
which  stilled  the  raging  waters  of  Galilee.  Then 
came  for  a  while,  or  at  intervals,  that  strange  sense 
of  being  morally  numbed  which  is  like  the  loss  of 
feeling  mercifully  bestowed  on  the  physical  system 
by  the  blow  of  the  lion's  paw.  At  last,  out  of  the 
confusion  order  began  to  come,  and  painful  capacity 
to  study  in  detail  his  own  sensations,  and  to  look, 
though  but  unsteadily,  at  the  need  for  decision. 
Then  also  he  began  to  take  note  of  outside  things, 
and  to  see  with  curious  intensity  natural  objects, 


160  HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS 

from  memories  of  which  would  come  forth  in  after- 
days  all  the  large  horror  of  the  sorrow  to  which 
they  had  become  linked  by  Nature's  mysterious 
bonds  of  association.  Thus  he  noted,  whether  he 
would  or  not,  the  miserly  little  squirrels,  and  the 
rustling  autumn  woods  thick  with  leafy  funerals, 
through  which  the  lated  robin  flew  in  haste. 

But,  as  I  have  said,  at  length,  when  he  got  back 
his  power  to  reason  and  to  be  guided  by  the  laws 
of  action  which  long  habit  had  made  strong,  there 
stayed  with  him,  above  all,  a  sense  of  pity  for  Eliza- 
beth so  vast  and  intense  that  to  feel  it  was  simply 
pain,  and  yet  pain  which  ennobled  and  made  strong. 
He  felt  that  were  she  herself  willing  he  could  not 
now  marry  her ;  and  out  of  a  strange  sense  of  duty 
to  children  yet  unborn,  and  never  to  live,  came  at 
last  peace  and  calm  decision.  Then  he  felt  that  he 
must  see  Elizabeth  at  once,  and  let  her  know  how 
just  he  held  her  judgment  to  be. 

In  his  trouble  the  hours  had  fled,  and  it  was  in  the 
late  afternoon  that  he  reached  his  home. 

Hephzibah  met  him  in  the  entry.  "  Where  hast 
thou  been  ?"  she  said,  looking  in  alarm  and  amaze- 
ment at  his  mud-stained  shoes  and  pale  face.  "Thou 
hast  forgotten  thy  dinner,  and  the  French  minister 
has  been  here  with  whom  thou  wast  going  to  Eliza- 
beth Howard's." 

"  No  matter,"  he  replied,  passing  her.  "  I  do  not 
wish  for  dinner :  I  am  going  out  again  when  I  have 
changed  my  shoes." 

"Thou  hast  had  some  worry,"  said  Hephzibah.  "  I 
do  think  it  concerns  that  worldly  woman." 


HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS  l6l 

"  Peace !"  he  returned :  "  thou  knowest  not  what 
thou  sayest.  Nay,  ask  me  nothing.  If  I  have  a 
sorrow,  it  is  for  no  human  ear." 

"Hast  thou  asked  her  in  marriage?"  persisted 
Hephzibah,  with  a  deep  sense  of  gladness,  "  and  has 
she  refused  thee  ?" 

"  I  said,  peace,"  he  returned.  "  The  matter  concerns 
thee  not ;  and  speak  no  ill  of  her,  as  thou  lovest  me." 

"  If  it  be  as  I  say,  thou  hast  been  wisely  dealt 
with,  Arthur  Guinness,"  she  replied.  A  sense  of 
triumph  rang  out  in  her  tones  despite  herself,  for 
this  marriage  was  of  all  things  that  which  she  feared 
the  most. 

But  Arthur  went  away  up-stairs  as  she  spoke,  say- 
ing bitterly,  "Ah,  Hephzibah,  in  the  field  of  the 
Master  thou  hast  gleaned  only  thistles,  and  thy 
tongue  is  as  the  tongue  of  Job's  friends.  Never 
again  speak  in  this  wise  to  me.  I  am  hurt  and 
sore :  let  me  alone." 

An  hour  later  Arthur  Guinness  walked  quietly 
into  the  parlor  of  Miss  Howard  and  awaited  her 
coming.  Presently  she  came  into  the  room  smiling 
and  took  him  by  both  hands,  and  said,  "  Sit  down. 
I  kept  you  waiting,  as  I  was  dressing,  because  I  am 
going  to  a  party  to-night.  And  how  thou  must  dis- 
approve of  my  splendor !"  And  she  made  him  a  sweep- 
ing courtesy,  and  settling  the  folds  of  her  heavy  silk 
dress,  sat  down  by  the  fire. 

He  looked  up  in  wonder  at  her  pleasant  face> 
"  How  canst  thou  smile  ?"  he  said. 

"  How  can  I  ?"  she  said.  "Some  people  are  good, 
and  their  goodness  helps  them  over  the  rough  places ; 


1 63  HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS 

and  some  have  common  sense,  and  that  gets  them 
through :  now,  I  am  not  very  good,  and  not  very 
sensible,  but  I  must  have  had  a  fairy  godmother 
called  Mirth,  and  when  things  are  blackest  I  am  per- 
versely moved  to  smile ;  and  that  does  so  iron  out 
the  wrinkles." 

"  Oh,  my  darling !"  he  said. 

"Please  don't,  or  I  shall  cry,"  exclaimed  Elizabeth: 
"  I  am  often  near  it  when  I  smile.  You  men  never 
know  how  close  they  are  together,  laughter  and  tears. 
There !  let  us  talk  sensibly." 

"  I  have  put  thy  book  in  the  drawer,"  he  said ; 
"  and  it  is  all  over,  and  thou  art  right, — utterly,  en- 
tirely right, — and — and — I  shall  never  trouble  thee 
more.  Farewell !" 

"  Good-by  ?"  she  exclaimed,  looking  at  his  quiv- 
ering mouth.  "  Not  at  all.  Stay  a  little,  just  a  little. 
I  knew  you  would  agree  with  me, — you  always  do, — 
because,  as  Hephzibah  wisely  remarks  of  herself,  I 
am  always  right.  It  won't  hurt  you  to  know  that  I 
feel  how  much  of  sweetness  went  out  of  life  when  I 
found  that  you  loved  me,  and  that  I  must  never  think 
to  sit  at  your  fireside  as  a  wife.  But  it  was  a  de- 
cision of  years  ago,  and  I  made  it  and  unmade  it 
Yes,  I  did,  for  I  am  weak  when  you  are  by.  But  at 
last  we  have  both  made  it,  and  I  thought  I  should 
want  to  die  as  I  told  you ;  but  I  do  not, — not  while 
you  live,  and  not  while, — now  don't  look  so  sad, — 
not  while  there  is  anything  on  earth  as  amusing  as 
the  overseers  and  Hephzibah." 

"  What  a  droll  woman  thou  art,  my  Elizabeth !" 
he  said. 


HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS  163 

"  Only  a  natural  woman,"  she  replied.  "  Do  you 
regret  what  we  have  done  ?" 

"  No,"  he  said,  firmly.  "  I  do  regret  the  thing,  not 
the  decision  upon  it.  I  have  only  to  look  at  the 
other  side  to  be  able  to  smile  a  little  with  thee." 

"Then  it  is  over,"  she  said,  "and  we  will  get 
what  we  can  out  of  life,  with  good  help,  Arthur,  and 
set  aside  the  past.  Shall  it  be  so  ?" 

"  It  shall  be  as  thou  hast  said,"  he  returned.  "  And 
what  else  is  it,  Elizabeth  ?"  for  she  stood  up  before 
him  flushed  and  handsome. 

"  Only  once,"  she  said,  "  I  must  tell  you  how  I 
love  and  honor  and  reverence  you, — how  gladly  I 
would  have  trusted  my  life  to  you.  I  must  show 
you  once,  as  only  a  woman  can,  how  I  love  you." 
And  leaning  over  him  as  he  sat  she  kissed  him. 

Arthur  buried  his  face  in  his  hands.  "  I  thank 
thee."  And  the  woman,  crimson  to  the  hair,  turned 
and  fled  from  the  room. 


1 64  HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS 


CHAPTER    V. 

ON  the  next  morning  Miss  Howard  received  a 
note  from  Arthur,  in  which  he  said  in  a  few  words 
that  he  was  going  away  for  a  fortnight,  thinking  it 
well  that  he  should  not  see  her  face  for  a  time.  He 
went  on  to  explain  that  it  was  not  unlikely,  owing  to 
some  commercial  affairs,  that  he  should  before  long 
have  to  go  to  Europe;  and  he  added  that  he  had 
meant  to  bring  the  abbe  to  see  her,  as  he  seemed  a 
proper  person  to  give  to  her  niece  the  French  lessons 
she  wished  her  to  take,  but  that  the  gentleman  would 
call  upon  her  at  once. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  of  the  next  day  the  Abbe  de 
Vismes  walked  slowly  down  Front  Street,  saluting 
as  he  passed  them  three  or  four  of  the  French  nobles 
who  had  drifted  into  this  quiet  haven  out  of  the 
storms  of  European  warfare.  The  abbe,  to  whom 
all  lands  were  alike,  provided  the  wines  were  good 
and  the  fare  agreeable,  had  begun  to  make  himself 
characteristically  at  home  in  the  tranquil  old  town. 
As  he  passed  Walnut  Street  he  lifted  his  hat  to  the 
Marquis  de  Talons,  and  the  pair  exchanged  pinches 
of  snuff  and  walked  on  together  among  the  groups 
of  homeward-bound  artisans  and  merchants. 

"  I  am  giving  lessons  in  the  dance,"  said  the  mar- 
quis, "  but  the  times  grow  better,  and  before  long  we 
shall  drink  our  Bordeaux  again  at  home.  What  is 


HEPHZIBAH    GUINNESS  165 

it  that  you  do  to  put  the  bread  in  your  mouth, 
abbe  ?" 

"  The  trade  which  is  best,"  said  the  abbe,  "  is  to 
turn  Quakre,  but  I  am  grown  too  old  to  change ; 
and,  moreover,  they  drink  not  the  wine  of  Madeira, 
which  I  find  to  be  comforting  and  not  dear." 

"  Thou  hast  reason,"  said  the  marquis,  "  but  thy 
trade  ?" 

"  Ah  !"  returned  the  abbe,  "  my  trade !  That  re- 
minds me,  and  the  place  is  here.  I  go  to  teach  a 
young  demoiselle  the  tongue  of  France." 

"  And  is  she  as  lovely  as  are  the  rest  ?"  returned 
the  marquis. 

"  Ah !  I  know  not,"  said  the  abbe,  "  but  my  nephew, 
who  has  but  seen  her,  raves  of  her  as  the  young  will 
do ;  and,  as  I  said,  this  is  the  place.  Au  revoir, 
marquis."  And  so  saying  he  went  into  the  little  gar- 
den, and  was  presently  chatting  with  Miss  Howard. 

The  parlor,  with  its  pretty  feminine  belongings 
and  pictures  and  china  and  well-rubbed  tables  and 
chairs,  took  the  abbe  by  surprise,  and  the  stately 
woman  who  greeted  him  with  a  curtsy  which  took 
up  half  the  room  no  less  delighted  him.  "  Ah !"  he 
said, "  madame,  I  am  enchanted  to  be  again  in  a  room 
with  pictures  and  color,  and,  you  will  pardon  me, 
with  a  woman  who  would  have  done  honor  to  our 
court." 

"  You  flatter  me,"  said  Miss  Howard,  smiling. 
"  You  have  taken  a  leaf  out  of  the  book  of  your 
gallant  countryman,  De  Lauzun." 

"  But  madame  will  consider  that  I  have  lived  here 
only  among  the  doves  which  are  called  Quakres." 


166  HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS 

"  Such  as  Miss  Hephzibah  Guinness,"  returned 
Miss  Howard.  "  Well !  well !  I  can  weigh  your 
pretty  speeches  now.  But  you  have  not  seen  my 
niece." 

"And  when  better  than  now?"  he  said;  upon 
which  the  pupil  was  promptly  summoned. 

"  This,"  said  Elizabeth,  "  is  my  niece,  Miss  How- 
ard. And  this,  Marguerite,  is  the  gentleman,  the 
Abbe  de  Vismes,  who  will  do  you  the  honor  to  teach 
you  French." 

"  She  does  not  yet  speak  that  tongue  ?"  he  said. 

"  No,"  replied  Miss  Howard. 

"  Then  I  may  say,  madame,  comme  elle  est  grade-use, 
cette  filleT 

The  girl  laughed.  "  Ah,  sir,  though  I  do  not 
know  French,"  she  said,  "  I  think  you  said  some- 
thing pleasant  of  me.  It  was  thee,  Aunt  Bess,  who 
said  that  a  woman  would  understand  a  man  if  he 
said  pretty  things  of  her  in  Hebrew." 

"  And  to  be  spirituelle  seems  to  be  of  the  family," 
said  the  abbe.  "  But  you  said  her  name  was  Mar- 
guerite, I  think." 

"  Yes,"  said  Miss  Howard,  "  her  mother's  name. 
Her  mother  was  French." 

"Ah!  and  of  what  family  ?"  inquired  the  abbe. 

"We  never  knew  her,"  said  Elizabeth,  briefly: 
"she  died  in  France.  Shall  our  lessons  begin  to- 
morrow ?" 

And  after  more  chat  and  many  compliments  it 
was  so  agreed,  and  the  abbe  went  away,  doubly 
happy  that  he  had  a  pupil  and  that  she  was  beautiful 
to  look  upon. 


HEPHZIBAH    GUINNESS  167 

The  cool  October  days  came  and  went,  and  the 
colder  November  mornings  stripped  off  the  last 
mournful  leaves,  while  the  French  emigres  settled 
down  to  their  work, — the  abbe  to  his  lessons,  which 
began  to  be  sufficient,  the  young  baron  to  his  novel 
labor  in  the  Quaker  merchant's  counting-house.  By 
degrees  the  exiled  youth  grew  to  like  the  quiet  town 
with  its  splendid  breadth  of  river  boundaries,  and  to 
find  friends  among  the  rich  and  refined  families  to 
whom  his  name,  and  still  more  his  frank  and  easy 
manners,  gave  him  ready  access.  But  above  all 
other  pleasures  were  the  morning  and  evening  walks 
to  and  from  his  place  of  business,  for  these  led  him 
past  the  garden  and  the  buttonwoods,  and  the  only 
house  which  was  not  open  to  him.  Daily  he  lingered 
there,  sometimes  catching  a  glimpse  of  the  blooming 
face  he  had  learned  to  like  so  well,  and  sometimes 
seeing  only  the  place  which  had  come  to  be  so 
pleasant  for  him. 

By  degrees,  Marguerite  in  turn  began  to  notice 
the  handsome  stranger  who  lingered  as  he  went  by, 
and  looked  happy  when  he  caught  her  eye  as  she 
glanced  up  from  her  autumn  garden-work  of  trim- 
ming the  rose-bushes  and  preparing  her  plants  for 
the  winter.  On  this  young  and  guileless  heart  no 
strong  impressions  had  yet  been  made,  and  perhaps 
the  very  means  which  her  aunt  so  sedulously  em- 
ployed to  keep  her  free  from  all  companionship  with 
the  other  sex  had  but  prepared  her  to  feel  deeply  the 
first  homage  which  a  man  should  lay  at  her  feet. 

At  length  one  morning  she  looked  up  from  her 
book  and  said,  quietly, "  Aunt  Bess,  why  dost  thou 


168  HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS 

not  ask  the  abbe  to  bring  the  poor  young  man  who 
is  his  nephew  to  see  us  ?  I  see  him  go  by  here 
almost  every  day,  and  I  think  he  would  like  to  come 
in.  I  would  if  I  were  he." 

Miss  Howard  turned  towards  her  with  a  startled 
look.  "  Why,"  said  she,  "  do  you  concern  yourself 
with  the  young  man  ?  I  dare  say  he  has  friends 
enough." 

"  But,  aunt,  he  looks  as  if  he  would  be  nice  to 
talk  to,  and  he  must  have  seen  many  things  I  should 
like  to  hear.  And  besides,  aunt,  why  do  no  young 
men  come  here,  and  only  Mr.  Guinness  and  Heph- 
zibah  and — and — old  people  ?" 

"  You  will  know  some  day,"  said  Elizabeth.  "  Other 
young  women  may  have  friends  who  are  young  men, 
but  you  cannot,  and  you  must  not  ask  me  why  until 
the  day  comes  that  I  may  tell  you  why.  Now  you 
must  trust  me  that  what  I  ask  is  wise  and  right.  Go 
back  to  your  book  again,  my  dear." 

"  Yes,  Aunt  Bess,"  she  replied ;  and  the  truant 
locks  fell  over  the  volume,  but  their  owner's  thoughts 
strayed  afar  and  made  little  castles  for  her  in  the 
land  of  Spain,  such  as  young  hearts  are  wont  to 
build. 

The  morning  after  was  cold  and  clear,  and,  early 
afoot,  Marguerite  was  busy  at  her  last  tasks  in  the 
little  garden,  sweeping  the  leaves  into  corners  and 
trimming  the  box  borders.  Presently,  as  she  stood 
by  the  fence  and  threw  over  some  dead  branches, 
she  was  aware  of  a  blush  that  told  of  her  conscious- 
ness of  the  close  neighborhood  of  the  young  baron. 
In  her  confusion  she  threw  over  with  the  lapful  of 


HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS  169 

trimmed  stems  her  garden -scissors  and  one  of  her 
gloves. 

The  young  man  touched  his  hat  smilingly,  and 
gathering  up  the  articles  in  question  laid  one  hand 
on  the  fence  and  leapt  lightly  over  into  the  garden. 
"  Mademoiselle  will  pardon  me,"  he  said.  "  These 
are  her  scissors.  And  we  cannot  be  quite  altogether 
stranger  the  one  to  the  other." 

"  Oh,  but  you  should  not  come  in,"  cried  the  girl, 
naively :  "  my  aunt  will  not  like  it.  And  my  glove, 
too,  if  you  please." 

" Mon  Dieu!"  said  the  baron.  "When  it  is  that 
we  enter  the  land  of  faery  we  go  not  away  without  a 
souvenir.  Mademoiselle  will  two  times  pardon  me." 
And  so  saying,  with  his  pleasant  face  glowing  with 
mischief  and  evident  admiration,  he  bowed  to  her, 
and  kissing  the  glove  thrust  it  in  his  bosom,  and 
again  leaping  the  fence,  lifted  his  hat  and  went  calmly 
away  down  Front  Street,  leaving  her  amused,  amazed, 
and  a  little  frightened.  Then  with  quick  female  in- 
stinct she  glanced  a  moment  at  the  windows  and  cast 
a  furtive  look  after  the  lithe,  handsome  figure  which 
had  disturbed  her  maiden  heart. 

The  incident  was  a  great  one  in  her  quiet  life,  but 
she  said  nothing  of  it  to  her  aunt.  Why,  she  could 
hardly  have  told  herself,  for  in  all  things  she  was  as 
frank  as  one  could  have  wished  so  young  a  thing  to 
be.  Then  the  days  fled  by  anew  until  midwinter 
brought  an  event  which  was  destined  to  disturb  all 
concerned  in  this  story. 

According  as  he  had  said,  Arthur  Guinness  found, 
not  now  to  his  dislike,  that  affairs  of  moment  made 


170  HEPHZIBAH    GUINNESS 

it  needful  that  he  should  go  to  Europe.  The  chance 
to  sail  at  once  offered  itself  while  he  was  absent  in 
New  York,  and  there  was  not  time  to  allow  of  the 
four  days'  journey  to  Philadelphia  and  back  again,  if 
he  would  not  lose  an  opportunity  which  might  not 
recur  for  a  month.  Not  sorry  to  put  a  little  time 
between  himself  and  Elizabeth,  he  seized  the  oppor- 
tunity, and  went  away  without  seeing  her  again. 
Then  a  letter  came,  and  another,  and  after  that  he  had 
found  his  way  to  the  Continent,  and  Miss  Howard 
heard  no  more. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

MEANWHILE,  an  open  winter  of  frequent  sunshine 
ended  in  February  with  a  week  of  intensely  cold, 
clear,  vivid  days.  On  the  late  afternoon  of  one  of 
these  Hephzibah  Guinness  stood  in  her  front  parlor 
ready,  in  drab  cloak  and  woollen  stockings  drawn 
over  her  shoes,  to  face  the  out-door  cold.  As  she 
passed  out  into  the  entry,  the  knocker  of  the  street- 
door  sounded,  and  she  herself  opening  the  door  was 
aware  of  young  De  Vismes,  his  face  in  a  pleasant 
glow  with  the  keen  frostiness  of  the  winter  air. 

"There  is,"  he  said,  "madame,  a  packet  which 
arrives  from  France,  and  there  are  letters  which  I 
am  to  carry  to  you ;  and  behold  them.  It  makes 
evil  weather  to-day." 

Hephzibah  took  the  letters,  a  large  bundle,  but 
did  not  ask  the  young  man  to  enter.  She  had  an 


HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS  171 

odd  dislike  to  foreigners  and  a  half-confessed  belief 
that  they  could  all  speak  English  well  enough  if  they 
chose.  "  I  am  about  to  go  out,"  she  said,  "  so  that 
I  may  not  ask  thee  in." 

"  I  wish  you  a  good-evening,"  he  returned,  and 
left  her. 

The  Quakeress  went  back  into  the  house  and 
hastily  tore  open  the  envelope.  There  was  a  long 
package  within  addressed  to  her.  This  also  she 
opened,  and  within  it  found  a  large  roll  of  folded 
pages,  yellow  and  stained  as  if  written  years  before. 
On  the  back  it  was  addressed  to  the  Abbe  Gaston 
de  Vismes. 

"At  last !"  she  said,  "  at  last !  Why  must  I  decide 
anew  ?  What  I  did  was  best  for  her.  Yes,  it  was 
best ;  and  now  it  is  all  to  be  thought  over  again,  as 
if  once  in  a  life  were  not  enough !"  Then  she  looked 
at  the  other  letters.  There  was  one,  a  heavy  one,  for 
Miss  Howard.  "  That  at  least  may  wait,"  said  Heph- 
zibah.  Lastly,  she  fell  upon  a  letter  to  herself  from 
her  brother.  This  she  eagerly  opened,  and  read  with 
a  haste  as  eager.  It  ran  in  this  wise : 

"  DEAR  HEPHZIBAH, — After  many  perils  and  grave 
occasions  by  sea  and  land,  I  have  prosperously  ended 
the  affairs  for  which  I  came  to  Europe.  Some  busi- 
ness of  a  brother-merchant  hath  led  me  to  the  town 
of  Nantes,  where  it  hath  been  my  fortune  to  be 
brought  into  relations  with  an  ancient  dealer,  who, 
on  hearing  my  name,  and  learning  whence  I  came, 
inquired  of  me  concerning  a  child  sent  to  Philadel- 
phia years  ago  on  the  death  of  its  father,  one  William 


1/2  HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS 

Howard.  Thou  wilt  be  amazed  to  know  that  the 
child  is  our  ward,  Marguerite,  and  that  she  was  the 
daughter  of  a  lady  of  the  class  of  nobles  called  De 
Vismes,  to  whom  William  Howard  was  married ; 
and,  what  is  yet  more  strange,  I  am  told  that  letters 
which  William  Howard  confided  to  this  merchant 
were  sent  over  to  my  care  by  the  packet  which  came 
after  the  one  which  fetched  our  ward.  These  may 
have  come  while  I  was  gone  to  Carolina  to  bring 
Elizabeth,  but  they  seem  to  have  been  lost,  although 
I  do  remember  me  plainly  of  the  coming  in  of  the 
packet,  which  was  the  George  Arnauld. 

"  I  send  thee  here  the  original  papers,  of  which 
those  lost  were  only  copies,  and  with  them  a  long 
and  curious  statement,  with  which  I  fear  thou  wilt 
not  be  well  pleased.  Thou  wilt  find  that  William 
speaks  especially  of  a  letter  of  instruction  and  of 
his  will,  which  latter  we  did  receive,  and  that  he 
desires  that  in  place  of  the  child  being  bred  in  the 
ways  of  our  Society,  as  he  was  at  first  minded 
and  wrote,  she  should  be  left  wholly  to  the  ward- 
ship of  our  good  friend  Elizabeth.  I  pray  thee 
at  once  to  read  the  strange  story  William  relates, 
and  also  his  final  letter,  and  then  to  give  them  to 
Elizabeth. 

"  Thou  wilt  learn  that  the  child  is  now  rich  in  this 
world's  goods.  I  shall  linger  but  long  enough  to 
secure  to  her  this  ample  estate,  and  to  place  it  in 
safety,  and  shall  then  return  with  all  the  haste  I  may 
to  our  own  land. 

"  Thy  always  loving  brother, 

"  ARTHUR." 


HEPHZIBAH  GUINNESS  173 

Hephzibah  set  her  lips  sternly,  and  turned  without 
a  word  to  the  longer  paper,  which  she  read  and  re- 
read eagerly.  It  ran  thus : 

"GENEVA,  May  10,  1794. 

"To  MY  BELOVED  FRIEND,  ARTHUR  GUINNESS, 
Merchant, — Thou  knowest  that  after  the  child  Mar- 
guerite was  sent  to  thee,  I  did  also  despatch  to  thee 
my  will  and  a  certain  letter  in  which  I  desired  Heph- 
zibah and  thee  to  be  guardians  of  the  little  maid.  I 
did  also  provide  for  her  bringing  up  in  the  ways  of 
our  Society,  and  for  her  living  with  my  sister  Eliza- 
beth. But  having  been  afflicted  since  the  child  went 
away  to  thee  with  bitter  and,  it  is  to  be  feared,  mortal 
illness,  I  am  come  to  think  that  I  shall  do  more  wisely 
to  leave  her  in  ward  of  my  sister,  Elizabeth  Howard, 
so  to  raise  her  as  may  seem  best  to  her,  she  being, 
although  not  of  our  Society,  a  woman  seriously 
minded,  despite  some  light  ways  of  speech  and  vain 
jesting. 

"  Having  thus  provided  by  a  letter  of  which  a  copy 
hath  been  sent  to  thee,  I  have  it  still  on  my  mind  to 
relate  to  thee  the  story  of  the  child's  parentage.  If 
it  had  pleased  Providence  that  I  should  have  lived 
to  care  for  her,  I  believe  I  should  still  have  let  her 
be  looked  upon  as  my  child  ;  but  as  it  now  seems 
unlike  that  I  shall  live  to  go  home,  I  esteem  it  best 
to  inform  thee  fully  as  to  the  fact  that  she  is  in  no 
manner  of  my  blood. 

"  Thou  knowest  that  while  I  dwelt  in  England  I 
felt  a  concern  as  to  them  that  were  afflicted  in  France. 
On  this  account  I  crossed  over  into  that  unhappy 
country,  and  journeyed  hither  and  thither  bearing 


1/4  HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS 

testimony.  Twice  I  was  cast  into  bonds,  and  twice 
in  danger  of  my  life ;  but  because  of  my  being  an 
American  and  of  our  Society,  I  was  each  time  set  at 
ease,  and  now  of  late  have  been  left  to  do  as  I  am 
guided.  At  last  I  came  in  the  Eleventh  month, 
which  they  call  Frimaire,  to  the  city  of  Nantes,  on 
the  river  Loire,  where,  having  a  letter  to  one  Pierre 
Porlat,  some  time  a  preacher  of  the  Society  of  Prot- 
estants, he  did  kindly  receive  me  into  his  house.  A 
great  gloom  was  come  on  all  because  of  the  cruelty 
of  one  Carrier,  who  hath  put  many  to  sudden  death 
by  drowning  without  even  a  form  of  trial. 

"  We  comforted  each  the  other  with  cheerful  talk, 
and  at  last  he  confided  to  me  that  he  had  concealed  in 
a  vacant  house  next  to  his  a  young  woman,  a  widow, 
and  her  little  child,  the  husband,  a  Marquis  la  Roche, 
having  been  lately  put  to  death.  I  was  able  to  help 
these  poor  people  by  carrying  to  them  food,  especially 
at  night,  when  we  would  sit  in  the  darkness,  a  light 
being  imprudent,  and  talk  of  many  things,  and  of 
some  good  for  speech  and  reflection  to  such  as  are 
in  trouble.  The  young  woman  was  of  great  beauty 
of  person,  and  also  of  a  singular  calm  sweetness, 
such  as  greatly  moved  my  pity. 

"  At  last  on  the  evening  of  the  fifteenth  day  of  the 
Eleventh  month,  I  came  in  from  comforting  some  of 
the  many  who  were  in  despair,  and  found  Pierre 
Porlat  and  the  woman  La  Roche  set  about  by  a  guard 
of  fierce-looking  men.  The  poor  thing  had  her  little 
frightened  child  in  her  arms.  I  turned  and  followed 
them  towards  the  prison.  When  we  came  near  to 
the  place,  which  is  a  low  building  called  the  Entrepot, 


HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS  175 

close  to  the  water,  we  met  eighty  or  more  men  and 
women  tied  in  pairs  and  being  driven  like  poor 
sheep — only  these  knew  their  fate — on  to  a  boat 
to  be  sunk  in  the  river.  When  they  were  counted 
the  man  Carrier  said  two  were  missing,  and  seeing 
the  woman  La  Roche  and  Pierre,  he  said,  '  Let  these 
be  added  to  make  the  count  correct,'  and  threaten- 
ing them  with  his  sword,  pushed  them  towards  the 
river.  Then  the  poor  mother  in  her  agony  cried  to 
me  to  take  the  child,  and  I  went  near  her  to  do  so, 
much  moved,  as  thou  mayst  suppose.  Then  the  man 
Carrier  said,  '  Who  is  this  ?'  and  one  of  the  captains, 
named  Lamberty,  answered  that  I  was  a  Quakre,  as 
they  say,  and  an  American,  and  therefore  a  foe  to 
aristocrats  ;  upon  which  the  man  Carrier  laughed  and 
said,  '  What  carest  thou  for  the  citoyenne  ?  Is  she 
thy  mistress  ?'  Then  I  was  filled  with  shame  for  her, 
and  with  great  pity,  so  that  I  scarce  could  speak,  and 
— may  I  be  forgiven ! — I  replied,  '  The  woman  is  my 
wife.'  Then  they  all  laughed  and  said,  'Let  the 
Quakre  have  his  wife,  and  make  haste;'  and  on  this 
the  woman  and  her  child  were  set  free.  But  they 
bade  us  stay  and  see  the  poor  creatures  drowned 
which  were  left  My  friend  Pierre  cried  out,  'The 
good  God  guide  thee !'  And  after  this  I  thrust  the 
woman  behind  me,  that  she  might  not  see  this  misery, 
and  so  stood  in  prayer  while  this  great  cruelty  was 
suffered.  Then  I  took  her  arm,  and,  carrying  the 
child,  went  away  into  the  town,  fearfully  searching 
my  heart  to  see  if  the  thing  I  had  done  was  well. 

"  I  lay  awake  all  that  night,  and  the  next  day  I 
said  to  Edulienne, — which  was  her  name, — '  I  have 


176  HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS 

saved  thy  life  with  a  lie,  and  thou  art  yet  in  peril. 
What  I  have  done  sorely  troubles  me.'  Then  she 
answered  sweetly  that  I  was  a  true  gentleman,  and 
that  she  would  not  be  so  saved,  but  would  go  and 
give  herself  up.  But  I  answered  that  what  I  did  I 
was  moved  to  do,  and  that  now  the  only  true  thing 
to  do,  both  to  salve  my  own  conscience  and  to  save 
her  life,  was  to  make  her  really  my  wife.  On  this 
she  burst  into  tears,  and  could  talk  no  more,  but  next 
day  came  to  me  and  said  it  should  be  as  I  wished. 
And  so,  not  to  weary  thee,  we  were  married  secretly 
by  a  brother  of  poor  Porlat  in  the  presence  of  his 
wife  and  daughter,  all  in  tears. 

"  But  my  little  woman  scarce  spoke  afterwards, 
and  pined  away  and  died  before  spring,  like  one 
stricken, — perhaps  of  remembering  her  marquis ;  and, 
after  all,  I  know  not  yet  if  that  I  did  were  well.  But 
coming  to  Bordeaux,  I  found  a  master  of  a  ship  I 
knew,  and  gave  him  charge  to  carry  the  little  one  to 
thee;  and  this  was  in  Fifth  month  of  the  year  1794. 

"  This  paper  will  be  left  in  charge  of  Eugene  Per- 
riere,  of  Nantes,  merchant,  who  will  see  that  it  reaches 
thee  in  case  of  my  death,  with  a  copy  of  my  instruc- 
tions to  my  sister  as  to  the  governing  of  the  child's 
life. 

"  Thy  true  friend, 

"WILLIAM  HOWARD." 

When  Hephzibah  had  finished  she  rose,  and  folding 
the  papers,  went  up-stairs  to  her  brother's  room  and 
laid  them  in  his  desk,  which  she  shut.  "  Let  them 
rest  there,"  she  said,  "  while  I  think  it  over.  Eliza- 


HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS  I// 

beth  may  wait :  there  is  no  haste.  They  seem  to  have 
been  long  on  the  way,  and  he  may  follow  them  soon. 
There  seems  nothing  but  to  give  over  the  child  to 
the  world ;  and  I  can  see  the  face  of  that  proud 
woman  when  she  hears  it  Must  all  my  years  of 
anxiousness  go  for  nothing?" 

After  this  she  walked  to  and  fro  in  the  room,  as 
her  brother  had  done  when  a  blow  as  great,  but  far 
different,  had  fallen  upon  him.  Years  before,  in  a 
moment  of  too  exalted  trust  in  the  wisdom  of  her 
own  views  as  to  how  another's  life  should  be  ordered, 
she  had  destroyed  the  letter  in  which  William  How- 
ard had  wisely  stated  his  altered  opinions  as  to  the 
education  and  religious  training  of  the  girl  they  had 
all  believed  to  be  his  own.  There  are  in  every 
Church  those  who,  if  they  held  the  reins  of  authority, 
would  use  them  to  force  into  their  own  ways  of 
thinking  all  who  chance  to  differ  from  them  in  belief; 
and  of  this  peculiar  mould  was  Hephzibah  Guinness. 
Now  the  house  she  had  builded  with  some  fear  and 
anxiety,  but  with  no  great  doubt,  was  crumbling,  and, 
as  often  happens,  doubt  began  to  grow  as  the  prob- 
ability of  failure  arose  and  increased ;  for  it  was  plain 
enough  to  her  that  the  one  conscience  she  dreaded 
outside  of  her  own — that  of  her  brother — would  be 
certain  not  to  sympathize  in  the  means  by  which  she 
had  secured,  as  she  believed,  the  eternal  safety  of 
Marguerite.  Night  fell  as  she  walked  to  and  fro 
in  the  mazes  of  terror,  doubt,  and  rudely-shaken 
convictions.  At  last,  with  a  shock,  came  to  her  the 
idea  that  perhaps  Arthur  had  written  also  directly  to 
Elizabeth  Howard ;  and  at  once,  unable  to  bear  the 


1/8  HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS 

suspense  through  one  night,  she  went  down-stairs 
and  out  of  the  house.  As  she  walked  along  the 
deserted  streets,  more  and  more  clearly  arose  before 
her  the  spectre  of  Arthur's  anger  and  reproach ;  but 
not  for  a  moment  was  it  plain  to  her  that  it  would  be 
righteous  anger  or  just  reproach.  Yet  it  would  be 
in  some  wise  a  falling  off  from  her  of  the  one  thing 
in  her  life  which  was  always  sweet  and  fresh,  and 
grew  with  a  wholesome  ripeness  as  years  went  on. 
Then,  too,  as  she  stood  in  the  little  garden,  search- 
ing herself  implacably  to  find  if  that  which  she  had 
done  was  well,  of  a  sudden  the  question  took  a  new 
form,  and  pausing  she  asked  herself  if  Arthur  had 
himself  done  this  thing,  how  it  would  have  seemed 
to  her  sitting  in  judgment.  Somehow,  she  could 
not  carry  out  this  idea.  She  stood  in  the  night  air, 
and  tried  to  make  for  herself  a  picture,  as  it  were, 
of  Arthur  burning  the  letter;  but  the  figure  she 
summoned  up  seemed  to  face  her  pale-visaged  and 
grave,  and  would  not  act  its  part  in  the  drama.  With 
this  a  strange  anger  came  over  her,  as  if  at  the  dear 
friend  who  was  fated  not  to  understand  her ;  and  then 
at  last,  with  the  despotism  of  a  strong  nature,  she 
brought  up  her  dominant  instinct  to  put  down  these 
doubts,  and  saying  aloud,  "  Thou  knowest,  Righteous 
Judge,  if  I  have  served  Thee  or  not, — Thee,  and 
Thee  only,"  she  knocked,  and  in  a  moment  or  two 
passed  from  her  sombre  thoughts  into  the  life  and 
gayety  of  Miss  Howard's  parlor. 

The  scene  that  presented  itself  to  Hephzibah  when 
she  entered  the  parlor  was  not  fitted  to  soothe  or 
comfort  her.  At  the  table  the  abbe  was  showing 


HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS  179 

Miss  Howard  a  new  game  of  cards,  which  her  niece 
was  also  learning  unasked. 

"  No  news  of  Mr.  Guinness  ?"  said  Miss  Howard. 

"  I  have  heard  nothing,"  said  Hephzibah,  with  a 
pang  at  the  equivocation ;  and  then  reflecting  that 
young  De  Vismes  might  have  mentioned  the  letters, 
she  added,  "  A  package  from  him  came  to-day." 

"  Well,  Aunt  Bess,"  said  Marguerite,  "  he  must 
come  home  soon  now." 

Hephzibah  was  in  a  state  of  irritation  which  made 
any  excuse  for  its  display  a  good  one.  "  Why  dost 
thou  call  Elizabeth  Howard,  Aunt  Bess  ?"  she  said. 
"  The  habit  is  unseemly." 

The  abbe  looked  surprised.  He  came  of  a  world 
which  took  life  easily. 

"  I  like  it,"  said  Elizabeth,  briefly :  "  it  is  my  wish. 
Suppose  we  put  aside  our  little  questions  of  discipline 
till  we  are  alone." 

"  All  hours  are  good  for  a  good  purpose,"  returned 
Hephzibah.  "  Does  the  child  learn  also  to  use  these 
tools  of  the  Great  Enemy  ?"  she  added,  pointing  to 
the  cards. 

Miss  Howard's  sense  of  humor  broke  out,  as  was 
her  way.  "  Poor  old  Satan !"  she  said :  "  how  much 
we  put  upon  him !  He  might  sue  the  whole  world 
for  slander." 

"  He  has  done  so  much  worse  in  my  France," 
sighed  the  abbe,  "  that  we  may  pardon  him  these 
morsels  of  paper." 

"  The  wrath  of  the  Great  Judge  hath  visited  thy 
unhappy  land,"  exclaimed  Hephzibah,  in  measured 
and  tranquil  tones.  "  Evil  hath  come  of  evil, — 


180  HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS 

punishment  of  wrong-doing.  He  hath  purged  the 
threshing-floor:  He " 

"  Madame,"  said  the  abbe,  some  little  remnant  of 
nature  stirring  in  him,  "  my  mother  died  on  the 
guillotine:  you  should  of  kindness  fear  to  speak  thus 
to  one  of  my  race.  More  than  the  wicked  died, — 
women  who  were  sweet  and  pure  died ;  priests  better 
than  me ;  some  who  were  young,  and  had  not  even 
lied  ever  in  their  lives.  Ah,  if  we  older  ones  were  to 
die  thus,  we  could  without  doubt  find  a  reason  to 
call  it  punishment." 

Some  remembrance  arose  and  smote  Hephzibah ; 
but  there  must  have  been  a  cross  of  the  Puritan  in 
her  breed,  for  these  words  came  in  answer :  "  Why  He 
visiteth  the  sins  of  one  generation  on  another  is  His 
alone  to  know ;  but  we  have  none  sinned  so  little  that 
we  may  not  accept  punishment,  and  find  a  cause  in 
us  somewhere.  Yet  I  did  not  mean  to  hurt  thee." 

The  abbe  rose  and  bowed  silently,  and  there  was  a 
moment  of  awkward  pause,  when  Marguerite  said, 
"  Oh,  aunt,  it  must  be  time  we  went." 

"Where?"  said  Hephzibah. 

"  We  are  going  on  to  the  ice  to  see  the  skating, 
and  the  coasting  at  High  Street  on  the  hill  down 

to  the  river,  and  the  bonfires,  and "  And  she 

paused,  thinking  what  else  or  who  else  might  be  on 
the  ice. 

"Will  you  go  with  us,  Hephzibah?"  said  Miss 
Howard,  civilly  but  coldly.  "  I  have  promised  Mar- 
guerite, as  we  shall  be  in  the  country  far  away  from 
here  next  year,  and  perhaps  she  may  never  have 
another  chance." 


HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS  l8l 

"  You  mean  to  leave  us  ?"  said  Hephzibah.  "  Is 
not  this  a  new  plan  ?  And  Margaret  ?  Is  she  to 
go?  Dost  thou  think  of  taking  her." 

"  Of  course,"  said  Elizabeth.  "  I  go  because  of 
her." 

"  And  my  brother  ?   doth  he  approve  ?" 

"  He  does,"  said  Elizabeth.  "  Any  more  questions, 
my  dear  ?" 

"  No,"  replied  Hephzibah,  "  but  I  thought  thou 
wouldst " 

"  Don't  think  for  other  people,  Hephzibah :  it 
makes  half  the  mischief  in  the  world." 

"  It  is  my  duty,"  said  Hephzibah,  "  to  think  for  this 
child." 

"  Do  not  you  think  also,"  said  Elizabeth,  whisper- 
ing in  a  quick  aside,  "  that  the  abbe  may  come  to 
believe  we  have  more  religion  than  manners  ?" 

"That  matters  little,"  returned  Hephzibah.  "I 
will  say  no  more  to  thee  now.  Farewell." 

"Madame  goes  not  on  the  ice?"  said  the  abbe; 
and  then,  unable  to  resist,  demurely  added,  "  It  would 
not  make  colder  madame." 

"  I  do  not  understand,"  said  the  literal  Hephzibah, 
"  why  it  should  not  make  me  cold." 

"  I  did  say  colder"  said  the  abbe,  while  Elizabeth 
shook  her  fan  at  him,  to  his  delight. 

"  I  shall  see  thee  soon,"  said  Hephzibah,  and  so 
left  them. 


1 82  HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS 


CHAPTER    VII. 

IT  was  a  gay  and  merry  scene  on  which  the  little 
party  looked  as  they  stood  in  their  winter  wraps  at 
the  top  of  the  hill  which  sloped  downward  abruptly 
from  Front  Street  to  the  river.  The  broad  highway 
was  covered  with  beaten  snow,  and  at  the  river's 
brink  a  wide  planking  of  wooden  boards  extended 
from  the  edge  of  the  wharf  down  on  to  the  solid  ice 
of  the  stream.  On  either  side  bonfires  were  blazing, 
and  lit  with  flashing  glow  the  hipped  roofs  and  red 
brick  gables  at  the  corners  of  Front  and  Water 
Streets.  On  the  deep  ice  of  the  solid  river,  far  over 
towards  Windmill  Island,  fires  were  also  seen,  and 
around  these  swift-flitting  figures  on  skates  went  to 
and  fro,  dimly  seen  for  a  moment  and  then  lost  in 
the  darkness  which  lay  upon  all  distant  objects. 

At  the  line  of  Front  Street  a  crowd  of  the  better 
class  of  people  was  gathered,  intently  watching  the 
scene.  Boys,  men,  and  girls  on  long  sleds  were 
gliding  every  minute  from  the  top  of  the  hill.  At 
first  slowly,  with  noise  and  shouts  of  laughter,  they 
started  away :  then  the  pace  quickened  and  they  flew 
past  the  fires  on  the  hill-slope  of  the  street,  now  seen, 
now  lost,  now  seen  again,  until  with  a  cry  they 
gained  the  ice  of  the  river  and  darted  with  delicious 
speed  across  the  black,  smooth  plane  of  the  silent 
Delaware. 

It  was  the  first  time  Marguerite  had  set  foot  on  a 


HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS  183 

frozen  river,  and  she  had  an  odd  sense  of  awe  and  in- 
security. Then  the  wildness  of  the  picture  began  to 
tell  upon  her  quick  and  sensitive  nature,  to  the  abbe's 
amusement  and  pleasure,  for  he  had  become  strangely 
fond  of  the  charming  little  Quaker  lady. 

Here  and  there  on  the  ice  were  bonfires,  from  which 
in  every  direction  fell  broad  flaring  shafts  of  rosy 
light  broken  by  the  long  shadows  of  the  skaters  as 
they  flew  around  the  blaze.  Many  of  the  coasters 
also  carried  pine-knot  torches,  and  as  they  dashed 
by  the  little  party  with  cry  and  laugh  the  lights 
flared,  and  then  sped  away  over  the  ice  until  they 
became  but  as  red  stars  in  the  distance. 

At  last  the  girl  urged  that  they  should  go  over  to 
Windmill  Island,  where  hundreds  of  people  were 
seen  by  the  light  of  a  vast  fire  engaged  in  barbecuing 
an  ox.  Here  they  lingered  a  while,  and  then  the 
abbe,  having  learned  that  the  ice  was  firm  and  safe,  pro- 
posed that  they  should  venture  over  a  little  towards 
the  Jersey  shore.  Accordingly,  they  crossed  the 
narrow  islet,  and  walked  some  two  hundred  yards 
out  on  the  farther  ice.  Here  were  no  fires,  but  a  dark 
quiet,  with  but  a  few  score  skaters  who  preferred  the 
tranquil  loneliness  of  the  broader  channel. 

"  How  solemn  it  is,  aunt !"  said  the  girl  as  the 
black  night  grew  about  them  over  the  dark  ice, 
while,  noticed  only  by  Marguerite,  a  swift  form  on 
skates  flew  around  them,  now  near,  now  far,  in  grace- 
ful curves. 

Lured  by  the  beauty  of  the  faint  moonlight  on 
the  ice  and  by  the  charm  of  the  less-occupied  parts 
of  the  frozen  stream,  they  had  gone  some  distance 


184  HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS 

farther,   when  the  abbe   said    abruptly,   "What  is 
that?" 

A  loud  cracking  sound  came  from  the  ice  some 
distance  below  them.  In  this  direction  the  river  was 
partly  open,  and  the  gleam  of  the  moonlight  was 
visible  on  the  clear  water  among  the  cakes  of  floating 
ice.  As  they  stood  to  listen  ten  or  twelve  skaters 
clustered  about  them.  Then  there  was  another  and 
a  louder  sound. 

"  The  ice  must  be  breaking  up  with  the  ebb  tide," 
said  Miss  Howard,  startled.  "  Come,  let  us  get  back 
to  the  island." 

"  Ah,  yes,  we  shall  do  well  to  make  haste,"  said 
the  abbe,  as  the  sounds,  great  and  small,  came  quick 
and  sharp  through  the  keen,  clear,  frosty  stillness. 

At  this  moment  the  group  scattered  as  if  a  bomb- 
shell had  fallen  among  them.  The  skaters  flew  to 
right  and  left  as  a  loud  noise  like  a  pistol-shot  rang 
almost  beneath  their  feet,  while  a  crack  ran  along  the 
ice,  dimly  seen  as  the  cleft  suddenly  widened.  The 
abbe  and  Miss  Howard  sprang  back,  and  the  latter, 
looking  wildly  around,  cried  out,  "  Marguerite!  where 
are  you  ?  Marguerite !" 

The  girl  in  her  curiosity  at  these  mysterious  sounds 
had  ventured  away  a  score  of  yards  farther  towards 
the  open  water.  "  Here,  here,  Aunt  Bess  1"  she 
answered,  running  towards  her  aunt. 

"  Oh,  my  God !"  cried  Miss  Howard.  "  My  child ! 
my  child !"  for  the  ebbing  tide  had  broadened  the 
cleft  swiftly,  so  that  as  they  stayed  by  the  edge  it  had 
grown  in  a  few  moments  to  a  space  some  five  or  six 
feet  broad. 


HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS  185 

"Jump!  jump  over!"  screamed  Elizabeth.  "We 
will  catch  you." 

At  this  moment  several  persons  came  forward,  and 
a  tall  young  man  on  skates  cried  out  in  a  voice  of 
command,  "  For  the  love  of  the  saints,  do  not  move ! 
It  is  now  too  late.  Wait !"  In  an  instant  he  was 
away,  flitting  back  into  the  darkness.  Then,  when  a 
hundred  feet  off,  he  turned  short,  and  crying  aloud, 
"  Gare  !  gare ! — I  would  say,  '  Take  care !' — place ! 
place !"  he  skated  with  desperate  energy  straight 
towards  the  group,  and,  hardly  pausing,  gathered 
himself  up  at  the  edge  of  the  rift  and  with  a  leap 
bounded  over  the  open  space  of  water,  and  coming 
down  on  the  far  side  rocked  to  and  fro,  recovered  his 
balance,  flew  along  with  the  wild  impulse  of  his  leap, 
and  returning  in  one  long  curve  was  at  the  side  of 
the  frightened  girl.  The  ice  was  fast  floating  away. 

"  It  is  I,"  he  cried.  "  I  will  answer  for  her  with 
my  life.  It  is  I,  Henri  de  Vismes !" 

"  My  nephew !"  exclaimed  the  abbe.  "  Be  tran- 
quil :  he  will  take  care  of  her." 

"  What  shall  we  do  ?"  returned  Miss  Howard. 

"  Get  ashore,"  cried  young  De  Vismes,  "  before 
the  ice  breaks.  Seek  men,  that  they  do  bring  us  a 
boat." 

"  Oh,  my  darling  I"  wailed  Elizabeth. 

"  Have  no  fear,"  exclaimed  the  young  baron,  now 
hardly  seen.  The  ice,  as  they  exchanged  quick, 
agitated  words  of  cheer  and  comfort  and  alarm, 
still  moved  farther  and  farther  away.  They  could 
now  scarcely  hear  the  voices  of  Marguerite  and  De 
Vismes.  The  pair  were  no  longer  visible. 


186  HEPHZIBAH    GUINNESS 

"  Come,"  said  the  abbe.  "  There  is  to  us  but  the 
one  thing  to  do."  And  in  silent  horror  Elizabeth 
followed  him  quickly  over  the  ice  to  the  shore  of  the 
island. 

Meanwhile,  the  fretting  river  worked  its  will,  and 
with  crush  and  cry  and  groan  and  shocks  the  broken 
floes  separated  from  the  main  mass  and  floated  off, 
now  grinding  together,  now  thrust  apart.  The  ice- 
island  on  which  the  two  young  people  stood  was 
about  half  an  acre  in  extent,  and  quite  safe  from 
being  overwhelmed.  The  danger  was  chiefly,  as  the 
baron  knew,  from  the  intense  winter  cold,  which 
happily  was  made  less  terrible  by  the  absence  of 
wind. 

The  moment  he  was  secure  on  the  ice  De  Vismes 
said  to  Marguerite,  "  Have  not  fear,  little  lady :  you 
are  safe.  It  is  but  to  wait." 

"  I  am  not  afraid,"  she  answered,  "  but  I  am  sorry 
for  aunt.  And  I  thank  you  so  very  much :  I  do  not 
think  many  men  could  have  done  that,  and" — with  a 
pause — "  I  am  sure  many  would  not." 

The  young  baron  laughed  gayly :  "  It  was  nothing 
to  do,  and  I  could  not  have  left  you  alone.  I  should 
have  gone  through  the  water  that  I  might  come  to 
you.  Is  it  not  droll  that  we  should  know  one  another 
thus?  Je  me presente, mademoiselle.  I  am  the  baron 
Henri  de  Vismes." 

"And  I,"  said  his  companion,  "am  Miss  Marguerite 
Howard."  And  she  curtsied,  laughing  at  the 
strangeness  of  the  scene. 

Meanwhile,  as  they  talked,  the  baron  undid  his 
skates,  and  then,  noticing  that  the  girl  shuddered,  he 


HEPHZIBAH  GUINNESS  187 

said,  "  It  makes  very  cold  here.  If  it  were  that  we 
had  a  bonfire !"  Then  he  took  off  his  cloak.  "  Put 
this  around  you,"  he  added. 

Marguerite  insisted  that  she  was  warm  enough. 
"You  will  freeze,"  she  exclaimed. 

"  I  am  happy,"  he  said,  "  and  they  who  are  happy 
do  not  suffer." 

"  Why  are  you  happy  ?"  said  Marguerite,  shivering. 
"  I  am  sure  I  am  not." 

"  Because,"  he  said,  quietly,  "  I  am  with  you." 

She  was  silent,  and,  innocent  as  she  was,  some 
instinct  restrained  her  tongue  while  the  cloak  was 
thrown  around  her  and  the  clasp  fastened  by  two 
strong  hands,  which  shook  as  they  touched  her 
throat. 

"  Let  us  walk,"  he  exclaimed.  "  It  is  safe  that  we 
keep  moving." 

In  this  manner  two  hours  fled  away.  Marguerite, 
despite  the  cloak,  was  shaking  with  the  growing  cold 
of  the  night,  and  De  Vismes  was  becoming  chilled 
and  anxious.  She  begged  to  sit  down,  but  the  young 
man  urged  her  to  motion,  and,  taking  her  hand  and 
laughing,  made  her  run  to  and  fro  on  the  ice. 

At  last  she  said,  "  I  am  strangely  sleepy :  let  me 
rest." 

"  To  rest  is  to  die,"  said  he,  calmly ;  and  again  they 
moved  about,  both  of  them  silent  and  filled  with  a 
dread  of  which  they  did  not  speak,  while  the  ice 
floated  down  the  river  towards  the  Point  House,  and 
the  lights  and  the  bonfires  grew  dimmer  and  dimmer. 

After  a  long  silence  Marguerite  exclaimed,  "  I  can- 
not walk  now :  my  head  swims,  my  feet  must  be 


188  HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS 

frozen  :  I  cannot  feel  them.  Oh,  I  shall  die !"  And, 
so  saying,  she  reeled,  and  but  for  the  ready  arms 
which  caught  her  would  have  fallen  on  the  ice.  De 
Vismes  laid  her  down,  resting  her  head  on  his  knee, 
and  without  a  word  stripped  off  his  coat  and  waist- 
coat, and,  glancing  anxiously  and  sadly  over  the 
water,  wrapped  his  clothes  around  her,  put  his  cap 
under  her  head  and  began  to  rub  her  feet.  Presently 
she  revived  a  little  under  the  influence  of  one  of  those 
strange  waves  of  reanimation  which  surprise  the 
watchers  by  death-beds  when  life  is  slowly  failing. 
"  Where  am  I  ?"  she  said.  "  Who  are  you  ?" 

"  I  am  Henri  de  Vismes,"  he  answered.  "  We  are 
on  the  ice  alone.  Pray  God  they  do  soon  come  to 
us,  or  we  die  of  cold !" 

"  I  remember  now,"  she  said.  "  You  said  we  must 
walk :  I  cannot  walk,  but  you  are  a  man  and  are 
strong.  Do  you  run  on  the  ice,  and  perhaps  you 
may  live  to  tell  Aunt  Bess  how  I  loved  her.  You 
see,  I  am  quite  warm:  I  have  no  pain  now — no  pain." 
And  her  voice  failed. 

De  Vismes  was  kneeling  beside  her  as  she  spoke. 
"  I  shall  not  ever  leave  you,"  he  said,  "  but  soon  I 
may  not  be  able  to  speak.  Therefore  think  not  I 
shall  go."  And  he  caught  her  close  to  him,  and  as 
her  head  lay  on  his  shoulder  he  said,  "  I  did  not 
mean  to  tell  you  until  I  had  said  it  to  your  aunt,  but 
now  it  does  not  make  matter :  I  love  thee.  Canst 
hear  me  say  I  love  thee  ?"  And  he  looked  piteously 
down  at  the  dimly-seen  face  beneath  his,  and  then 
across  the  cruel  waste  of  rocking  ice-floes. 

She  murmured  something. 


HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS  189 

"  What  dost  say,  Marguerite  ?"  And  he  drew  her 
closer. 

"  I  thought — there  would  be  some  one — who  would 
love  me — some  day,"  she  muttered.  "Aunt  Bess 
thinks  not.  Ah,  she  did  not  know."  Then  she  was 
silent,  and  spoke  no  words  in  answer  to  his  broken 
wail  of  love  and  pity. 

De  Vismes  sat  still,  feeling,  as  did  Marguerite,  the 
cold  less  and  less,  and  growing  confused  in  mind  and 
more  easy  in  body.  He  saw  the  dim  outlines  of  the 
splendid  sweep  of  the  Jura  Mountains,  the  turreted 
chateau,  the  warm  summer  sun  on  the  walnut-groves. 
He  dreamed  of  warmth  as  a  man  who  starves  dreams 
of  banquets.  Then  he  thought  how  many  De  Vismes 
had  died  in  the  saddle,  at  sea,  by  the  axe,  and  that 
he,  the  only  one  left,  was  to  perish  of  cold ;  and  then 
of  a  sudden  he  rose  up,  staggering  and  still  holding 
the  girl,  and  cried  aloud,  "  Torches  !  lights  !  Wake 
up,  wake  up,  Marguerite  !  wake  !  Saved  !  saved  !" 
and  reeling  fell  with  her,  while  cries  rang  across  the 
moonlit  river  and  swift  feet  hastened  from  a  boat 
along  the  ice. 

When  the  young  baron  awakened  from  the  swoon 
which  had  almost  been  death  he  was  lying  in  a  chintz- 
curtained  bed  with  high  mahogany  posts.  As  his 
head  cleared  he  saw  by  the  dim  light  Miss  Howard 
seated  near  the  fire.  "  Mademoiselle !"  he  exclaimed. 
"  Mon  Dieu  !  where  am  I  ?" 

Miss  Howard  was  at  his  side  in  a  moment,  and 
drew  aside  the  curtains.  "  You  are  in  my  house," 
she  said,  kindly.  "Ask  no  questions  now.  You 
have  been  ill,  very  ill." 


190  HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS 

"  But,"  he  said,  "Je  m'en  souviens.  Ah,  yes,  the  ice !" 
And  he  started  up.  "And  Marguerite,  mademoi- 
selle?" 

"  She  is  well,"  said  Miss  Howard, — "  doing  well." 

"  Ah !"  he  murmured,  and,  still  feeble,  fell  back 
again. 

After  this  the  days  went  by,  and  with  them  mem- 
ory returned,  and  he  made  out,  as  it  were  bit  by  bit, 
the  scene  on  the  ice,  and  learned  that  Marguerite 
had  recovered  even  more  rapidly  than  he.  Then  his 
uncle  came  to  see  him,  and  he  began  to  get  about 
his  room,  and  to  feel  that  he  should  no  longer  tax 
this  generous  hospitality. 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

MEANWHILE,  in  Elizabeth  Howard's  bosom  was 
raging  a  storm  of  emotions  which  taxed  to  the 
uttermost  her  unusual  powers  of  self-control.  For 
years  she  had  sedulously,  almost  ridiculously, 
guarded  Marguerite  from  contact  with  the  other  sex. 
She  had  told  Arthur  that  she  meant  in  the  spring  to 
remove  to  the  country,  and  there  to  isolate  her  niece 
until  she  could  fully  make  clear  to  her  why  she  must 
never  think  of  marriage,  and  why  her  life  and  fate 
must  be  different  from  those  of  a  woman  whom 
destiny  had  left  free  to  love.  With  her  their  race 
must  end.  And  now  a  pitiless  accident  had  rudely 
broken  the  guard  she  had  set  about  her  niece ;  for 


HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS  igi 

in  his  ravings  De  Vismes  had  only  too  clearly  told 
the  story  of  his  passionate  first  love. 

But  perhaps  he  alone  loved ;  and  at  last  she  saw 
that  he  too  must  be  told  their  miserable  history,  and 
that  Marguerite's  young  life  must  also  be  darkened 
by  this  sombre  knowledge.  Miss  Howard  was  not  a 
person  to  abandon  a  purpose  to  which  duty  and  a 
clear  intelligence  had  guided  her,  and  once  resolved 
she  waited  only  until  De  Vismes  was  well  enough  to 
bear  an  appeal  to  his  honor  and  manliness. 

In  pursuance  of  her  views  she  so  arranged  it  that 
when  De  Vismes  and  Marguerite  first  met  after  their 
illness  it  should  be  in  her  own  presence.  There  was 
to  be  no  chance  for  sudden  love-passages  arising  out 
of  natural  gratitude ;  and  she  was  half  amused,  half 
sad  at  the  awkward  greetings  which  passed  between 
the  two  as  she  brought  them  together  in  her  parlor. 
But  love  has  eyes  as  well  as  lips,  and  rosy  blazonry 
on  cheeks  that  glow  with  too  warm  consciousness  of 
unspoken  thoughts. 

Just,  however,  as  the  scene  was  growing  awkward, 
Hephzibah  appeared,  and  after  many  questions  asked 
and  answered, — for  the  Quaker  spinster  was  of  a  curi- 
ous cast  of  mind, — she  turned  with  her  usual  abrupt- 
ness upon  De  Vismes,  saying,  "  Thou  wilt  be  going 
to  thy  lodgings  soon,  I  suppose  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  the  young  man,  coloring :  "  I  have 
been  too  long  an  intruder  here." 

"  We  owe  you  too  much  to  think  you  anything 
but  one  of  our  own  household,"  said  Elizabeth,  while 
Marguerite  looked  up  coyly  thankful. 

"  Yet  it  is  time  that  I  went  away,"  said  De  Vismes, 


192  HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS 

"  but  there  will  be  no  time  that  I  shall  regret  to  have 
been  here.  It  will  be  that  I  go  to-morrow." 

"  Is  there  no  news  of  Mr.  Guinness  ?"  said  Eliza- 
beth. 

"  None  of  late,"  replied  Hephzibah  ;  and  so  saying 
left  them. 

The  evening  sped  away  pleasantly  with  cards  and 
mirth,  and  the  abbe  told  his  little  stories  of  the  French 
court.  At  last,  Marguerite  having  gone  to  bed  and 
the  abbe  departed,  De  Vismes  rose  and  said  to  Miss 
Howard,  "  This  will  be  my  last  good-night  in  your 
house.  Bon  soir,  mademoiselle.  I  shall  be  grieved 
to  leave  you :  I  shall  not  ever  forget." 

"  Yes,"  said  Miss  Howard,  rising,  "  it  will  be  your 
last  good-night  here ;"  and  she  paused.  "  Will  you 
be  seated  a  little  while  ?  I  have  something  to  say 
to  you." 

De  Vismes  looked  suprised,  but  with  ready  polite- 
ness sat  down  again,  saying,  "  Is  it  that  I  can  serve 
you  in  any  way  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  Elizabeth;  "more  than  you  guess, 
perhaps  more  than  you  will  wish." 

"  Mademoiselle  does  not  yet  know  me,"  said  De 
Vismes. 

Elizabeth  went  on  abruptly :  "  You  are  young  and 
joyous,  and  life  seems  gladsome  to  you  despite  many 
sorrows." 

"  Yes,"  he  said ;  "  I  have  of  late  come  to  think  of 
it  as  most  sweet." 

"  And  therefore,"  said  she,  sadly,  "  I  think  it  cruel, 
even  if  in  the  end  it  be  kind,  to  speak  as  I  must  do. 
You  love  my  niece." 


HEPHZIBAH    GUINNESS  IQ3 

"  Ah,  mademoiselle  knows  it !  she  has  guessed  it ! 
How  kind  of  her  to  save  a  young  man  the  awkward 
task  to  speak,  to  say  he  loves !" 

"No  more,"  said  Miss  Howard.  "I  know  it;  and 
you  would  have  died  for  her  ?" 

"  Died  for  her,  if  it  might  be,  a  thousand  deaths," 
said  he.  "  I " 

"  And  if  so,"  broke  in  Elizabeth, — "  if  that  be  true, 
would  you  give  her  up  and  go  away  if  I  show  you 
that  to  marry  her  would  be  wrong — wrong  to  her, 
wrong  to  yourself — to  your  race,  to  your  blood,  to 
your  children's  children  ?" 

De  Vismes  grew  pale :  "  What  is  it  mademoiselle 
would  say  ?  If  that  she  will  come  to  love  me,  why 
is  it  we  may  not  marry  ?  There  is  no  shameful  thing 
possible." 

Miss  Howard  rose  :  the  task  was  too  hard  for  her. 
The  frank,  anxious  young  face  followed  her  as  she 
went  and  came.  At  last  she  paused :  "  There  is  in 
her  blood,  in  my  blood,  a  taint :  we  are  born  to  be 
insane,  to  take  our  own  lives.  We  are  of  a  doomed 
race.  We  may  not  love  as  others  do.  God  has  set 
a  curse  on  us.  We  may  not  marry;  we  may  not  see 
our  little  ones  grow  up  and  bless  us  as  other  women 
do.  They  would  come  to  curse  us  when  they  knew. 
They  would  ask,  Why  were  we  born  to  this  misery  ? 
Ah,  it  is  a  terrible  thing  that  you  have  come  to  love 
Marguerite !  But  you  will  pardon  me  my  abruptness : 
I  meant  to  make  it  gentle,  but  how  can  I  ?" 

De  Vismes  looked  and  felt  bewildered.  The  sud- 
denness of  the  blow  indeed  overcame  him.  "  I  will 
think  of  what  you  have  said  to  me,  mademoiselle: 


194  HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS 

I  cannot  now  gather  myself  to  think  of  it.  I — I — 
never  yet  did  hear  of  such  a  thing :  I  must  have  time 
to  reflect." 

"  Reflect !"  said  Elizabeth.  "  No,  no ;  you  must 
act,  not  reflect.  You  love  her ;  that  is  a  reason  to 
act.  You  must  go  away,  and  come  back  no  more. 
You  must  never  see  her  again  on  earth.  Then  I 
shall  know  how  to  save  her.  Oh,  for  God's  sake,  do 
not  make  it  more  hard  for  me !  If  you  will  not  help 
me,  I  must  tell  her.  How  can  I  tell  her  ?" 

"  But  if  she  loves  me,"  cried  he,  in  despair,  "  how 
am  I  to  go, — to  go  and  leave  her, — to  see  her  no 
more, — to  let  her  think  of  me, — a  French  gentleman, 
a  noble, — as  of  a  man  who  would  say  when  as  if 
about  to  die,  '  I  love  thee,'  and  then  fly  and  make  no 
sign  ?" 

"  But  I  will  tell  her  when  you  are  gone,"  said 
Elizabeth.  "  You  shall  lose  nothing  in  my  hands. 
Surely  you  can  trust  me.  And  then  she  does  not 
love  you :  I  am  sure  she  cannot.  It  will  be  you 
only  who  will  suffer,  and  I  appeal  to  you  as  a 
gentleman  to  save  her.  I  am  sure  she  does  not 
love  you." 

"  That  may  be,"  he  said,  sorely  shaken. 

"  You  ought  not  to  hesitate,"  said  Miss  Howard ; 
"  you  ought  to  go.  Do  not  stay  until  you  win  her 
young  heart,  only  that  inevitable  parting  may  break 
it.  Why  wait?  You  seem  as  though  you  would 
yield  if  you  believed  what  I  say.  Ah,  trust  me,  she 
does  not  love  you." 

"  If  this  be  so,  I  will  go,"  said  De  Vismes,  white 
as  a  sheet.  "  I  will  go,  because  you  are  right ;  but 


HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS  195 

if  I  thought  she  loved  me,  I  would  trust  to  the  good 
God's  mercy  and  stay." 

"  Oh,  my  heavens !"  cried  Elizabeth,  in  despair. 
"  She  does  not  love  you." 

As  she  spoke,  Marguerite  glided  swiftly  into  the 
room,  crying  out,  "  You  have  no  right  to  speak  for 
me,  Aunt  Bess.  I — I  came  down  because  I  had  for- 
gotten to  kiss  you  good-night,  and  I  heard  you.  I — 
I Oh,  Aunt  Bess,  I  do  love  him!  Is  it  wrong?" 

"  Marguerite !"  said  De  Vismes ;  and  he  caught 
her  in  his  arms. 

"Oh,  my  children!"  exclaimed  Elizabeth.  As  she 
spoke  the  knocker  sounded  again  and  again. 

"  What  is  that  ?"  said  Miss  Howard.  "  It  is  late ; 
what  can  it  be  ?"  And  the  little  commonplaces  of  life 
broke  into  their  storm  of  fears  and  hopes  and  made 
a  sudden  quiet. 

"  I  will  go  to  see,"  said  De  Vismes,  "  if  you  please. 
The  maid  must  have  gone  to  bed.  They  knock 
again." 

"  Yes,  oblige  me  by  seeing  who  it  is.  They  seem 
in  haste,"  said  Elizabeth. 

De  Vismes  went  into  the  entry  and  hastily  opened 
the  door.  He  fell  back  in  amazement  as  Hephzibah, 
not  recognizing  him,  went  past  him  with  no  more 
notice  than  to  say,  "  Is  thy  mistress  in  the  parlor  ?" 
and  then  suddenly  broke  into  the  room. 

Elizabeth  and  Marguerite  rose  in  amazement. 

Hephzibah  stood  still  an  instant  in  the  doorway, 
her  drab  cloak  dripping,  her  scant  gray  locks  fallen 
about  her  face  and  neck,  without  bonnet  or  other 
headgear. 


196  HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS 

"  What  is  it  ?"  cried  Miss  Howard. 

Hephzibah  seized  her  arm  and  leaned  forward. 
"  He  is  dead !"  she  said.  "  Thou  hast  killed  him." 

"  I  ?     Who  ?"  exclaimed  Elizabeth. 

"Arthur,  my  Arthur,  my  brother  Arthur !  Do  not 
look  at  me  so.  Go  down  on  thy  knees  and  pray  for 
forgiveness." 

"  For  Heaven's  love,"  said  Elizabeth,  "  what  is  it, 
woman  ?  Did  you  say  Arthur  was  dead  ?  Tell  me 
about  it.  I — I  never  did  trust  you  :  this  cannot 
be." 

"  He  is  dead,"  said  Hephzibah, — "  drowned, — the 
ship  lost, — the  news  just  come.  I  loved  no  one  like 
him.  Why  didst  thou  deny  him  the  poor  gift  that 
would  have  kept  him  here  ?" 

"  If,"  said  Elizabeth,  "  my  dear  Arthur  is  gone  to 
God,  I  am  answerable  to  the  dead  alone.  My  love ! 
my  love !"  And  she  sank  into  a  chair  in  a  passion 
of  tears,  while  De  Vismes  and  her  niece  ran  to  her 
side  and  silently  stood  by  her  as  if  to  comfort  and 
protect  her. 

Hephzibah,  white,  trembling,  with  hands  knitted 
in  front  of  her,  and  with  working  fingers,  remained 
alone  and  speechless,  looking  down  upon  the  little 
group.  At  last  she  said,  with  a  curious  unnatural 
firmness,  "  There  are  many  things  to  talk  of,  Eliza- 
beth Howard." 

Elizabeth  looked  up.  "Are  you  of  flesh  and  blood, 
woman  ?"  she  cried.  "  Go !  go  away !  I  cannot  talk 
with  you  to-night.  Take  her  home,  some  one." 

"  That  were  best,"  said  De  Vismes. 

"  I  should  better  do  my  Master's  errand  were  1  to 


HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS  197 

forget  on  His  service  the  loved  one  I  have  lost," 
returned  Hephzibah.  "  To-day  is  His  time.  To- 
morrow,— to-morrow Who  owns  to-morrow  ? 

Had  I  been  more  ready  in  the  past  to  warn  my 
brother  of  the  snares  of  the  worldlings,  he  might 
yet  be  alive." 

"  Go !"  said  Miss  Howard.  And  De  Vismes  took 
the  Quakeress  kindly  but  firmly  by  the  arm,  saying, 
"  Come ;  the  time  is  not  well  for  speech."  And  they 
turned  and  left  the  room. 

"  Poor  Aunt  Bess  1"  cried  Marguerite.  "  If  only  I 
could  do  something  for  you  !" 

"  Only  One  can  do  that,  my  child,"  said  Elizabeth. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

THE  news  of  Arthur  Guinness's  death  fell  with 
varied  influence  upon  those  who  were  near  or  dear 
to  him. 

An  awful  temptation  was  by  Fate  put  away  from 
the  path  of  Miss  Howard.  The  man  she  loved  was 
taken,  and  with  him  went,  as  she  knew  only  too  well, 
much  of  the  little  sunshine  of  her  life.  It  was  more 
like  widowhood  to  her  than  such  a  loss  would  have 
been  to  a  younger  woman ;  and  it  was  characteristic 
of  the  woman  and  of  her  life  that  after  the  first  sharp 
anguish  she  accepted  her  new  sorrow  as  brave  men 
accept  sentence  of  death,  and  that  with  eyes  more 


198  HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS 

than  ever  set  on  the  future  she  took  up  the  threads 
of  duty  anew,  and  went  sweetly  and  pleasantly  along 
the  ways  of  life. 

To  Hephzibah  she  was  that  enigma  which  a  person 
with  a  strong  overruling  sense  of  humor  must  always 
be  to  one  who  knows  no  note  in  the  wide  gamut  of 
mirth-making  thoughts.  That,  as  time  went  on,  Miss 
Howard  could  smile, — nay,  worse,  laugh, — that  the 
little  events  of  daily  life  could  still  afford  her  amuse- 
ment, seemed  to  Hephzibah  a  constant  insult  to  her 
brother's  memory.  But  some  laugh  through  life, — 
laugh  if  they  win  or  lose;  and  some  cry  if  they 
always  win ;  and  Elizabeth  would  have  gone  with  a 
smile  to  any  fate  which  life  could  bring.  The  ex- 
asperation which  this  temperament  wrought  on 
Hephzibah  had  unhappily  evil  consequences,  and 
perhaps  was  the  overweight  which  turned  the  balance 
of  her  decisions. 

Her  brother's  death  left  her  possessed  of  the  pa- 
pers which  would  give  her  steady  control  over  the 
spiritual  destinies  of  Marguerite,  whose  sole  guard- 
ian she  now  became.  She  found  it  easy  to  assure 
herself  that  a  fortune  was  bad  for  the  girl, — that  to 
fall  under  Elizabeth's  entire  rule  was  yet  more  evil  for 
the  child.  Then,  too,  Elizabeth,  goaded  to  despair 
by  her  new  assumptions  as  time  went  by,  rose  in 
revolt,  as  any  noble  nature  must  have  done,  until  at 
last  Hephzibah  became  more  and  more  certain  that 
nothing  could  be  surer  spiritual  death  for  her  ward 
than  the  fate  which  would  be  hers  if  the  later 
wishes  of  William  Howard  became  known.  Come 
what  might,  a  long  while  must  elapse  before  it  be- 


HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS  199 

came  clear  through  other  sources  that  the  child  was 
not  destined  to  Quakerism.  Letters  were  lost  every 
week  in  those  days,  and  war  everywhere  made  it  as 
likely  as  not  that  years  would  pass  before  the  truth 
was  made  manifest.  Therefore  it  was  that  the  letters 
lay  in  Arthur  Guinness's  desk  safe  enough,  and  that 
the  months  fled  away  and  the  spring  came. 

Meanwhile,  Marguerite  went  listlessly  about  her 
daily  tasks,  with  a  sense  that  much  of  the  sweetness 
of  her  young  life  had  gone  from  her ;  for,  after  one 
or  two  more  interviews  with  her  lover,  she  had  been 
told  by  Miss  Howard  the  dark  story  of  her  race,  and 
had  come  at  last,  like  De  Vismes  and  Arthur  Guin- 
ness, to  acquiesce  in  the  decree  by  which  Elizabeth 
had  forbidden  for  them  as  for  herself  the  thought 
of  love  or  marriage. 

It  was  the  old,  sad,  beautiful  tale  of  love  con- 
trolled by  duty.  But  to  see  one  another,  to  meet 
and  to  part  with  no  utterance  of  their  forbidden  love, 
was  fast  becoming  a  task  too  grave  for  youthful  hu- 
man hearts.  The  baron  felt  that  it  behooved  him  as 
a  man  to  end  the  ever-renewed  struggle  by  leaving 
the  city.  Therefore  on  an  afternoon  in  the  end  of 
May  there  was  a  scene  in  Miss  Howard's  home  of 
bitter  final  parting,  from  which  De  Vismes  tore  him- 
self away  with  the  sobs  of  Marguerite  echoing  in 
his  ears.  He  went  out  through  the  paling  fence, 
and  moved  westward  along  Shippen  to  Argyle 
Street,  half  consciously  avoiding  the  ways  where  he 
could  meet  faces  that  he  knew.  Here  he  turned 
westward  on  his  favorite  walk  towards  the  Neck, 
along  Kingsessing  Road,  then  lined  with  fields  and 


200  HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS 

pasture-grounds,  and  presently  felt  a  kindly  arm  on 
his  own  and  heard  his  uncle  say,  "  Thou  hast  been 
hurt  of  a  woman,  my  dear.  Shall  I  be  disagreeable 
to  walk  with  thee  ?  I  know  that  fortune  went  not 
well  with  thee,  Henri,  because  we  are  poor  and 
friendless.  Were  it  not  so,  thy  Quaker  maid  had 
not  said  nay  to  one  of  our  house." 

"  But,  uncle,"  said  the  baron,  "  it  is  still  as  I  told 
thee.  There  is  more  to  put  us  one  from  the  other 
than  the  want  of  love.  It  is  not  my  secret,  and  I 
cannot  tell  thee." 

"  As  thou  pleasest,"  said  the  abbe.  "  Women  are 
alike  all  the  world  over:  men  may  vary,  but  women 
never.  Ah,  if  I  could  but  endow  thee  with  my  ex- 
perience, thou  mightst  have  good  luck  with  the  lady. 
And  she  is  handsome  too,  and  I  am  told  will  have  a 
good  dot.  One  acquires  experience  too  late." 

The  baron  was  silent,  as  his  mood  fitted  not  with 
the  abbe's  cynical  ways,  and  they  walked  along  qui- 
etly. By  and  by  they  came  upon  the  Penrose  Ferry 
Road,  and  the  frogs  began  to  croak  their  vespers 
and  a  faint  haze  rose  up  over  the  broad  meadows  of 
the  Neck  lands,  while  the  setting  sun,  large,  round, 
and  crimson,  hung  on  the  far  horizon's  verge  across 
the  Schuylkill.  A  windmill's  sails  turned  slowly  on 
the  left  of  the  road,  and  the  sound  of  the  milking- 
pans  and  the  lowing  of  cows  crossed  the  flat  pas- 
tures and  ditches,  and  came  pleasantly  to  the  ears  of 
the  exiles  as  they  paused  to  listen,  soothed  by  the 
peaceful  sweetness  of  the  hour.  Then  a  flock  of 
sheep  came  along  the  road,  and  as  they  jostled  one 
another  the  dust  of  the  highway  made  a  cloud  of 


HEPHZIBAH  GUINNESS  2OI 

rosy  gold  over  and  about  them  and  the  herdsman 
who  walked  behind  in  a  check  cloak  and  slouched 
hat 

"  It  is  like  our  Normandy,"  said  the  abbe.  "  But, 
man  Dieu,  what  is  this  ?"  for  as  he  spoke  they  were 
aware  of  a  tall,  largely-made  man  coming  towards 
them  with  quick  steps. 

The  baron  darted  forward :  "  It  is — is  it  ? — nay,  it 
is  you,  Mr.  Guinness !  Where  is  it  that  you  have 
come  from  ?  We  have  thought  you  dead." 

"  Ah,  this  is  most  happy,"  cried  the  abbe. 

"  By  the  will  of  Providence,"  said  Arthur,  "  it  is 
indeed  I, — a  man  saved  after  shipwreck  and  many 
perils.  I  landed  at  New  Castle  to-day,  and  made 
haste  to  drive  home,  but,  my  carriage  breaking 
down,  I  am  come  these  last  few  miles  afoot.  Are  all 
well, — Elizabeth,  Hephzibah,  Marguerite?" 

"  All,"  said  the  baron ;  "  and  what  joy  will  there 
be!" 

Then  Arthur  went  on  to  tell  his  story,  and  at  last 
it  was  agreed  that  the  abbe  should  hasten  in  advance 
to  tell  Hephzibah,  and  that  the  baron  should  also 
warn  Miss  Howard,  lest  the  women  should  be  too 
much  startled  by  this  sudden  return  of  Arthur. 

The  abbe  reached  Miss  Guinness's  house  a  half- 
hour  after,  and  with  what  result  we  shall  presently 
hear.  When,  still  later,  he  entered  Miss  Howard's 
home,  he  found  the  little  group,  half  in  tears,  half  in 
laughter,  surrounding  the  dear  friend  who  had  so 
unexpectedly  come  back.  Elizabeth  was  saying  to 
the  baron,  "  It  was  good  and  thoughtful  of  you  to 
come  beforehand  and  tell  me.  I  thank  you."  And 


202  HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS 

then  a  small  hand  stole  furtively  into  his,  and  he  felt 
by  its  tender  touch  that  he  was  still  better  thanked. 

"  But  what  ails  thee,  friend  De  Vismes  ?"  said 
Arthur ;  and  all  turned  to  look  at  the  abbe,  who  was 
flushed  and  excited. 

"  Oh,  a  thing  most  strange,"  replied  the  abbe,  "  and 
I  must  tell  it." 

"  Why  not  ?"  said  Miss  Howard,  looking  up  with 
flushed  and  joyful  face. 

"  And  I  must  leave  thee,"  said  Arthur.  "  It  was 
on  my  way  to  pass  here,  and  I  could  not  go  by  with- 
out a  word ;  but  now  I  would  seek  Hephzibah." 

"  She  is  not  in  her  house,"  said  the  abbe ;  "  and 
before  you  go  I  may  ask  that  a  thing  be  for  me  made 
clear." 

"  And  what  ?"  said  Arthur.  "  Tell  us  soon,  for  I 
may  not  tarry  on  my  way  home." 

"  I  did  go,"  said  the  abbe,  "  with  haste  to  tell 
mademoiselle  the  sister  of  your  soon  coming,  but  the 
small  maid  gave  me  assurance  that  she  was  not  at 
home ;  and  then  I  did  think  I  would  leave  a  word 
written  to  say  all  I  had  to  say;  and  that  I  might 
write  I  was  asked  of  the  maid  to  go  into  the  room 
of  M.  Guinness,  where  sometimes  we  have  smoked. 
And  when,  the  maid  having  opened  the  desk  and  left 
me,  I  ended  the  little  note,  I  saw  with  amazement  on 
a  bundle  of  papers  which  had  a  look  to  be  old  the 
name  of  me,  Gaston  de  Vismes,  abbe.  And  as  it 
seemed  of  my  address,  I  did  not  attend  long  before 
I  unfolded  the  sheets  and  read.  What  I  read  was  to 
me  as  a  dream,  as  a  dream  of  the  past,  as  a  tale  of 
the  dead, — of  my  sister.  I  am  troubled :  I  say, '  This 


HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS  203 

is  mine.'  I  find  in  the  leaves  a  letter  of  Miss  How- 
ard :  I  bring  it  too,  I  bring  all.  You  will  make  for 
me  excuses.  This  paper  is  what  the  dead  say.  It 
disturbs  me,  I  am  shaken.  Here  is  the  letter  for 
you,  Mademoiselle  Howard." 

At  this  moment  Hephzibah  entered  the  room; 
she  had  come  by  an  accident  hither.  She  saw  first 
in  the  abbe's  hands  the  papers  she  had  concealed, 
and  heard  his  last  rapid,  troubled  sentences. 

"  Thou  hast  stolen  my  papers,"  she  said,  coldly ; 
and  then  of  a  sudden,  as  she  advanced  a  step,  she 
caught  sight  of  Arthur,  who  ran  forward  as  she 
spoke. 

"  Hephzibah !  sister !"  he  cried,  "  I  am  come  again. 
Our  heavenly  Father  has  heard  thy  prayers." 

"Arthur!"  she  said,  and  for  a  brief  moment, 
locked  in  his  strong  arms,  she  remembered  only 
that  this  one  loved  heart  yet  beat.  But  then  sud- 
denly there  came  upon  her  the  horror  and  fear  of 
the  discovery  which  was  about  to  spring  upon  her. 
She  was  not  a  woman  to  wait  her  fate  or  keep  si- 
lence, hoping  to  escape.  While  the  little  group 
watched  this  solemn  meeting  of  the  brother  and  sis- 
ter she  gathered  herself  up,  calmly  adjusted  her  gray 
bonnet,  and  said,  "  Wilt  thou  come  home  with  me, 
Arthur?  I  have  much  to  say.  These  papers  were 
in  a  cover  addressed  by  thee  to  me :  I  will  take  them 
now."  And  she  moved  towards  the  amazed  abbe. 

"  Nay,"  said  Elizabeth,  "  it  seems  that  they  belong 
to  the  abbe.  And  my  own  letter,  it  has  a  distant 
date.  Why,  woman,  did  you  really  dare  to  keep  this 
from  me?" 


204  HEPHZIBAH   GUINNESS 

"  What  does  this  mean  ?"  said  Arthur ;  and  all  eyes 
turned  upon  Hephzibah. 

"  Give  me  my  papers,"  she  said.  "  We  should  talk 
of  them  alone,  Arthur." 

"  But,"  said  the  abbe,  "  I  have  read  them." 

"  Thou  hast  read  them  ?"  said  Hephzibah,  in  meas- 
ured tones. 

"  Why  not  ?"  exclaimed  Arthur,  puzzled. 

"  And  they  say  that  it  was  my  sister,  the  Marquise 
de  la  Roche,  which  Mr.  Howard  did  marry  to  save 
from  death ;  and  the  child  is  my  niece,  and  not  his 
daughter." 

"  Impossible !"  said  Elizabeth.  "  What  dream  is 
this  ?"  And  she  seized  the  girl  as  if  fearing  to  lose 
her,  and  added,  "  But  you  kept  these  papers,  Heph- 
zibah? You  thought  Arthur  dead:  you  meant  to 
keep  them  always.  Oh,  woman !  woman !  how  could 
you  ?  Arthur,  I  would  not  have  told  this  :  I  did  not 
know.  I  am  sorry :  I  pity  her." 

"  Thou  hast  no  need,"  said  Hephzibah.  "  What  I 
did  was  under  a  concern,  but  the  way  has  not  opened, 
and  I  am  freed." 

"  Oh,  Hephzibah  1"  exclaimed  Arthur,  and  sinking 
into  a  chair  he  covered  his  face. 

"  I  am  grieved  only  to  have  hurt  thee,  brother," 
said  Hephzibah.  "  The  girl  is  lost  to  Friends :  the 
world  hath  her." 

"  And,"  cried  the  young  De  Vismes,  "  she  is  of  our 
own  blood, — my  cousin !  Ah,  mon  dme  /"  And  he 
caught  the  bewildered  girl  in  his  arms,  while  Heph- 
zibah turned  quietly  and  went  out  into  the  street. 


THEE  AND  YOU 


THEE    AND    YOU. 


ONCE  on  a  time  I  was  leaning  over  a  book  of  the 
costumes  of  forty  years  before,  when  a  little  lady  said 
to  me,  "  How  ever  could  they  have  loved  one  another 
in  such  queer  bonnets  ?"  And  now  that  since  then 
long  years  have  sped  away,  and  the  little  critic  is, 
alas !  no  longer  young,  haply  her  children,  looking 
up  at  her  picture,  by  Sully,  in  a  turban  and  short  waist, 
may  have  wondered  to  hear  how,  in  such  disguise,  she 
too  was  fatal  to  many  hearts,  and  set  men  by  the  ears, 
and  was  a  toast  at  suppers  in  days  when  the  waltz 
was  coming  in  and  the  solemn  grace  of  the  minuet 
lingered  in  men's  manners. 

And  so  it  is,  that,  calling  up  anew  the  soft  Sep- 
tember mornings  of  which  I  would  draw  a  picture 
before  they  fade  away  with  me  also,  from  men's 
minds,  it  is  the  quaintness  of  dress  which  first  comes 
back  to  me,  and  I  find  myself  wondering  that  in 
nankeen  breeches  and  swallow-tailed  blue  coats  with 
buttons  of  brass  once  lived  men  who,  despite  gnarled- 
rimmed  beavers  and  much  wealth  of  many-folded 
207 


208  THEE  AND   YOU 

cravats,  loved  and  were  loved  as  well  and  earnestly 
as  we. 

I  had  been  brought  up  in  the  austere  quiet  of  a 
small  New  England  town,  where  life  was  sad  and 
manners  grave,  and  when  about  eighteen  served  for 
a  while  in  the  portion  of  our  army  then  acting  in  the 
North.  The  life  of  adventure  dissatisfied  me  with 
my  too  quiet  home,  and  when  the  war  ended,  I  was 
glad  to  accept  the  offer  of  an  uncle  in  China  to  enter 
his  business  house.  To  prepare  for  this  it  was  de- 
cided that  I  should  spend  six  months  with  one  of  the 
great  East  India  firms.  For  this  purpose  I  came  to 
Philadelphia,  and  by  and  by  found  myself  a  boarder 
in  an  up-town  street,  in  a  curious  household  ruled 
over  by  a  lady  of  the  better  class  of  the  people  called 
Friends. 

For  many  days  I  was  a  lonely  man  among  the 
eight  or  ten  persons  who  came  down,  one  by  one,  at 
early  hours  to  our  breakfast-table  and  ate  somewhat 
silently  and  went  their  several  ways.  Mostly,  we 
were  clerks  in  the  India  houses  which  founded  so 
many  Philadelphia  fortunes,  but  there  were  also  two 
or  three  of  whom  we  knew  little,  and  who  went  and 
came  as  they  liked. 

It  was  a  quiet  lodging-house,  where,  because  of 
being  on  the  outskirts  and  away  from  the  fashion  and 
stir  of  the  better  streets,  those  chiefly  came  who 
could  pay  but  little,  and  among  them  some  of  the 
luckless  ones  who  are  always  to  be  found  in  such 
groups, — stranded  folks,  who  for  the  most  part  have 
lost  hope  in  life.  The  quiet,  pretty  woman  who 
kept  the  house  was  of  an  ancient  Quaker  stock  which 


THEE   AND   YOU  209 

had  come  over  long  ago  in  a  sombre  Quaker  May- 
flower, and  had  by  and  by  gone  to  decay,  as  the  best 
of  families  will.  When  I  first  saw  her  and  some  of 
her  boarders  it  was  on  a  pleasant  afternoon  early  in 
September,  and  I  recall  even  now  the  simple  and 
quiet  picture  of  the  little  back  parlor  where  I  sat 
down  among  them  as  a  new  guest.  I  had  been  tran- 
quilly greeted,  and  had  slipped  away  into  a  corner 
behind  a  table,  whence  I  looked  out  with  some  curi- 
osity on  the  room  and  on  the  dwellers  with  whom 
my  lot  was  to  be  cast  for  a  long  while  to  come.  I 
was  a  youth  shy  with  the  shyness  of  my  age,  but 
having  had  a  share  of  rough,  hardy  life,  ruddy  of 
visage  and  full  of  that  intense  desire  to  know  things 
and  people  that  springs  up  quickly  in  those  who  have 
lived  in  country  hamlets  far  from  the  stir  and  bustle 
of  city  life. 

The  room  I  looked  upon  was  strange,  the  people 
strange.  On  the  floor  was  India  matting,  cool  and 
white.  A  panel  of  painted  white  woodwork  ran 
around  an  octagonal  chamber,  into  which  stole 
silently  the  evening  twilight  through  open  windows 
and  across  a  long  brick-walled  garden-space  full  of 
roses  and  Virginia  creepers  and  odorless  wisterias. 
Between  the  windows  sat  a  silent,  somewhat  stately 
female,  dressed  in  gray  silk,  with  a  plain  muslin  cap 
about  the  face,  and  with  long  and  rather  slim  arms 
tightly  clad  in  silk.  Her  fingers  played  at  hide-and- 
seek  among  some  marvellous  stitchery, — evidently  a 
woman  whose  age  had  fallen  heir  to  the  deft  ways  of 
her  youth.  Over  her  against  the  wall  hung  a  portrait 
of  a  girl  of  twenty,  somewhat  sober  in  dress,  with 


210  THEE   AND   YOU 

what  we  should  call  a  Martha  Washington  cap.  It 
was  a  pleasant  face,  unstirred  by  any  touch  of  fate, 
with  calm  blue  eyes  awaiting  the  future. 

The  hostess  saw,  I  fancied,  my  set  gaze,  and  rising 
came  toward  me  as  if  minded  to  put  the  new-comer 
at  ease.  "  Thee  does  not  know  our  friends  ?"  she 
said.  "  Let  me  make  thee  known  to  them." 

I  rose  quickly  and  said,  "  I  shall  be  most  glad." 

We  went  over  toward  the  dame  between  the  win- 
dows. "  Grandmother,"  she  said,  raising  her  voice, 
"  this  is  our  new  friend,  Henry  Shelburne,  from  New 
England." 

As  she  spoke  I  saw  the  old  lady  stir,  and  after  a 
moment  she  said,  "  Has  he  a  four-leaved  clover  ?" 

"That  is  what  she  always  says.  Thee  will  get 
used  to  it  in  time." 

"  We  all  do,"  said  a  voice  at  my  elbow ;  and  turn- 
ing, I  saw  a  man  of  about  thirty  years  old,  dressed 
in  the  plainest-cut  Quaker  clothes,  but  with  the  con- 
tradiction to  every  tenet  of  Fox  written  on  his  face, 
where  a  brow  of  gravity  forever  read  the  riot  act  to 
eyes  that  twinkled  with  ill-repressed  mirth.  When 
I  came  to  know  him  well,  and  saw  the  preternatural 
calm  of  his  too  quiet  lips,  I  used  to  imagine  that 
unseen  little  demons  of  ready  laughter  were  forever 
twitching  at  their  corners. 

"  Grandmother  is  very  old,"  said  my  hostess. 

"Awfully  old,"  said  my  male  friend,  whose  name 
proved  to  be  Richard  Wholesome. 

"  Thee  might  think  it  sad  to  see  one  whose  whole 
language  has  come  to  be  just  these  words,  but  some- 
times she  will  be  glad  and  say,  '  Has  thee  a  four 


THEE   AND   YOU  211 

leaved  clover  ?'  and  sometimes  she  will  be  ready  to 
cry,  and  will  say  only  the  same  words.  But  if  thee 
were  to  say,  '  Have  a  cup  of  coffee  ?'  she  would  but 
answer,  'Has  thee  a  four-leaved  clover?'  Does  it 
not  seem  strange  to  thee,  and  sad  ?  We  are  used  to 
it,  as  it  might  be, — quite  used  to  it.  And  that  above 
her  is  her  picture  as  a  girl." 

"  Saves  her  a  deal  of  talking,"  said  Mr.  Wholesome, 
"  and  thinking.  Any  words  would  serve  her  as  well. 
Might  have  said,  '  Topsail  halyards,'  all  the  same." 

"  Richard !"  said  Mistress  White.  Mistress  Pris- 
cilla  White  was  her  name. 

"  Perchance  thee  would  pardon  me,"  said  Mr. 
Wholesome. 

"  I  wonder,"  said  a  third  voice  in  the  window, 
"  does  the  nice  old  dame  know  what  color  has  the 
clover  ?  and  does  she  remember  fields  of  clover, — pink 
among  the  green  ?" 

"  There  is  a  story,"  said  Priscilla,  "  that  when  my 
grandmother  was  yet  a  young  woman,  my  grand- 
father on  the  day  that  he  died, — his  death  being 
sudden, — fetched  her  from  the  field  a  four-leaved 
clover,  and  so  the  memory  of  it  clings  while  little  else 
is  left." 

"  Has  thee  a  four-leaved  clover  ?"  re-echoed  the 
voice  feebly  from  between  the  windows. 

The  man  who  was  curious  as  to  the  dame's  re- 
membrances was  a  small  stout  person  whose  arms 
and  legs  did  not  seem  to  belong  to  him,  and  whose 
face  was  strangely  gnarled,  like  the  odd  face  a  boy 
might  carve  on  a  hickory-nut,  but  was  withal  a  visage 
pleasant  and  ruddy. 


212  THEE   AND   YOU 

"  That,"  said  Mistress  White  as  she  moved  away, 
"is  Mr.  Schmidt, — an  old  boarder  with  some  odd 
ways  of  his  own  which  we  mostly  forgive.  A  good 
man — if  it  were  not  for  his  pipe,"  she  added  demurely, 
— "  altogether  a  good  man." 

"  With  or  without  his  pipe,"  said  Mr.  Wholesome. 

"  Richard !"  returned  our  hostess,  with  a  half 
smile. 

"  Without  his  pipe,"  he  added ;  and  the  unseen 
demons  twitched  at  the  corners  of  his  mouth  anew. 

Altogether,  these  seemed  to  me  droll  people,  they 
said  so  little,  and,  saving  the  small  German,  were  so 
serenely  grave.  I  suppose  that  first  evening  must 
have  made  a  deep  mark  on  my  memory,  for  to  this 
day  I  recall  it  with  the  clearness  of  a  picture  still 
before  my  eyes.  Between  the  windows  sat  the  old 
dame  with  hands  quiet  on  her  lap  now  that  the  twi- 
light had  grown  deeper, — a  silent,  gray  Quaker 
sphinx,  with  only  one  remembrance  out  of  all  her 
seventy  years  of  life.  In  the  open  window  sat  as  in 
a  frame  the  daughter,  a  woman  of  some  twenty-five 
years,  rosy  yet  as  only  a  Quakeress  can  be  when 
rebel  nature  flaunts  on  the  soft  cheek  the  colors  its 
owner  may  not  wear  on  her  gray  dress.  The  outline 
was  of  a  face  clearly  cut  and  noble  as  if  copied  from 
a  Greek  gem, — a  face  filled  with  a  look  of  constant 
patience  too  great  perhaps  for  one  woman's  share, 
with  a  certain  weariness  in  it  also,  yet  cheerful  too, 
and  even  almost  merry  at  times, — the  face  of  one 
more  thoughtful  of  others  than  of  herself,  and,  despite 
toil  and  sordid  cares,  a  gentlewoman,  as  was  plain 
to  see.  The  shaft  of  light  from  the  window  in 


THEE   AND    YOU  213 

which  she  sat  broadened  into  the  room,  and  faded  to 
shadow  in  far  corners  among  chairs  with  claw  toes 
and  shining  mahogany  tables, — the  furniture  of  that 
day,  with  a  certain  flavor  about  it  of  elegance,  reflect- 
ing the  primness  and  solidness  of  the  owners.  I 
wonder  if  to-day  our  furniture  represents  us  too  in 
any  wise  ?  At  least  it  will  not  through  the  gener- 
ations to  follow  us  :  of  that  we  may  be  sure.  In  the 
little  garden,  with  red  gravelled  walks  between  rows 
of  box,  Mr.  Schmidt  walked  to  and  fro,  smoking  his 
meerschaum, — a  rare  sight  in  those  days,  and  almost 
enough  to  ensure  your  being  known  as  odd.  He 
walked  about  ten  paces,  and  went  and  came  on  the 
same  path,  while  on  the  wall  above  a  large  gray  cat 
followed  his  motions  to  and  fro,  as  if  having  some 
personal  interest  in  his  movements.  Against  an 
apricot  tree  leaned  Mr.  Wholesome,  watching  with 
gleams  of  amusement  the  cat  and  the  man,  and  now 
and  then  filliping  at  the  cat  a  bit  of  plaster  which  he 
pulled  from  the  wall.  Then  she  would  start  up  alert, 
and  the  man's  face  would  get  to  be  quizzically  un- 
conscious ;  after  which  the  cat  would  settle  down  and 
the  game  begin  anew.  By  and  by  I  was  struck  with 
the  broad  shoulders  and  easy  way  in  which  Whole- 
some carried  his  head,  and  the  idea  came  to  me  that 
he  had  more  strength  than  was  needed  by  a  member 
of  the  Society  of  Friends,  or  than  could  well  have 
been  acquired  with  no  greater  exercise  of  the  limbs 
than  is  sanctioned  by  its  usages.  In  the  garden  were 
also  three  elderly  men,  all  of  them  quiet  and  clerkly, 
who  sat  on  and  about  the  steps  of  the  other  window 
and  chatted  of  the  India  ships  and  cargoes,  their  talk 


214  THEE   AND   YOU 

having  a  flavor  of  the  spices  of  Borneo  and  of  well- 
sunned  madeira.  These  were  servants  of  the 
great  India  houses  when  commerce  had  its  nobles, 
and  lines  were  sharply  drawn  in  social  life. 

I  was  early  in  bed,  and  rising  betimes  went  down 
to  breakfast,  which  was  a  brief  meal,  this  being,  as 
Mr.  Wholesome  said  to  me,  the  short  end  of  the  day. 
I  should  here  explain  that  Mr.  Wholesome  was  a 
junior  partner  in  the  house  in  which  I  was  to  learn 
the  business  before  going  to  China.  Thus  he  was 
the  greatest  person  by  far  in  our  little  household, 
although  on  this  he  did  not  presume,  but  seemed  to 
me  greatly  moved  toward  jest  and  merriment,  and 
to  sway  to  and  fro  between  gayety  and  sadness,  or 
at  the  least  gravity,  but  more  toward  the  latter  when 
Mistress  White  was  near,  she  seeming  always  to  be 
a  checking  conscience  to  his  mirth. 

On  this  morning,  as  often  after,  he  desired  me  to 
walk  with  him  to  our  place  of  business,  of  which  I 
was  most  glad,  as  I  felt  shy  and  lonely.  Walking 
down  Arch  Street,  I  was  amazed  at  its  cleanliness, 
and  surprised  at  the  many  trees  and  the  unfamiliar 
figures  in  Quaker  dresses  walking  leisurely.  But 
what  seemed  to  me  most  curious  of  all  were  the  plain 
square  meeting-houses  of  the  Friends,  looking  like 
the  toy  houses  of  children.  I  was  more  painfully 
impressed  by  the  appearance  of  the  graves,  one  so 
like  another,  without  mark  or  number,  or  anything 
in  the  disposition  of  them  to  indicate  the  strength 
of  those  ties  of  kinship  and  affection  which  death 
had  severed.  Yet  I  grew  to  like  this  quiet  highway, 
and  when  years  after  I  was  in  Amsterdam  the  resem- 


THEE   AND   YOU  21$ 

blance  of  its  streets  to  those  of  the  Friends  here  at 
home  overcame  me  with  a  crowd  of  swift-rushing 
memories.  As  I  walked  down  of  a  morning  to  my 
work,  I  often  stopped  as  I  crossed  Fifth  Street  to 
admire  the  arch  of  lindens  that  barred  the  view  to 
the  westward,  or  to  gaze  at  the  inscription  on  the 
Apprentices'  Library,  still  plain  to  see,  telling  that 
the  building  was  erected  in  the  eighth  year  of  the 
Empire. 

One  morning  Wholesome  and  I  found  open  the 
iron  grating  of  Christ  Church  graveyard,  and  passing 
through  its  wall  of  red  and  black  glazed  brick,  he 
turned  sharply  to  the  right,  and  coming  to  a  corner 
bade  me  look  down  where,  under  a  gray  plain  slab 
of  worn  stone,  rests  the  body  of  the  greatest  man,  as 
I  have  ever  thought,  whom  we  have  been  able  to 
claim  as  ours.  Now  a  bit  of  the  wall  is  gone,  and 
through  a  railing  the  busy  or  idle  or  curious,  as  they 
go  by,  may  look  in  and  see  the  spot  without  entering. 

Sometimes,  too,  we  came  home  together,  Whole- 
some and  I,  and  then  I  found  he  liked  to  wander  and 
zigzag,  not  going  very  far  along  a  street,  and  showing 
fondness  for  lanes  and  byways.  Often  he  would  turn 
with  me  a  moment  into  the  gateway  of  the  Univer- 
sity Grammar  School  on  Fourth  Street,  south  of 
Arch,  and  had,  I  thought,  great  pleasure  in  seeing 
the  rough  play  of  the  lads.  Or  often,  as  we  came 
home  at  noon,  he  liked  to  turn  into  Paradise  Alley, 
out  of  Market  Street,  and  did  this,  indeed,  so  often 
that  I  came  to  wonder  at  it,  and  the  more  because  in 
an  open  space  between  this  alley  and  Commerce 
Street  was  the  spot  where  almost  every  day  the 


216  THEE   AND   YOU 

grammar-school  boys  settled  their  disputes  in  the 
way  more  common  then  than  now.  When  first  we 
chanced  on  one  of  these  encounters,  I  was  surprised 
to  see  Mr.  Wholesome  look  about  him  as  if  to  be 
sure  that  no  one  else  was  near,  and  then  begin  to 
watch  the  combat  with  a  strange  interest.  Indeed, 
on  one  occasion  he  utterly  astonished  me  by  taking 
by  the  hand  a  small  boy  who  had  been  worsted  and 
leading  him  with  us,  as  if  he  knew  the  lad,  which 
may  well  have  been.  But  presently  he  said,  "  Reu- 
ben thee  said  was  thy  name  ?"  "  Yes,  sir,"  said  the 
lad.  "  Well,"  said  Mr.  Wholesome, — after  buying 
him  a  large  and  very  brown  horse  gingerbread,  two 
doughnuts,  and  a  small  pie, — "  when  you  think  it 
worth  while  to  hit  a  fellow,  never  slap  his  face,  be- 
cause then  he  will  strike  you  hard  with  his  fist,  which 
hurts,  Reuben.  Now,  mind :  next  thee  strikes  first 
with  the  fist,  my  lad,  and  hard,  too."  If  I  had  seen 
our  good  Bishop  White  playing  at  taws,  I  could  not 
have  been  more  overcome,  and  I  dare  say  my  face 
may  have  shown  it,  for,  glancing  at  me,  he  said  de- 
murely, "  Thee  has  seen  in  thy  lifetime  how  hard  it 
is  to  get  rid  of  what  thee  liked  in  thy  days  of  boy- 
hood." After  which  he  added  no  more  in  the  way 
of  explanation,  but  walked  along  with  swift  strides 
and  a  dark  and  troubled  face,  silent  and  thoughtful. 
I  observed  many  times  after  this  that  the  habits  and 
manners  of  Friends  sat  uneasily  on  Mr.  Wholesome, 
and  that  when  excited  he  was  quite  sure  to  give  up 
for  a  time  his  habitual  use  of  Friends'  language,  and 
to  let  slip  now  and  then  phrases  or  words  which  were 
in  common  use  among  what  Mistress  Priscilla  called 


THEE  AND   YOU  2 IJ 

world's  people.     It  was  a  good  while  before  I  came 
to  understand  the  source  of  these  peculiar  traits. 

Sometimes  in  the  early  morning  I  walked  to  my 
place  of  business  with  Mr.  Schmidt,  who  was  a  man 
so  altogether  unlike  those  about  him  that  I  found  in 
him  a  new  and  varied  interest.  He  was  a  German, 
and  spoke  English  with  a  certain  quaintness  and 
with  the  purity  of  speech  of  one  who  has  learned  the 
tongue  from  books  rather  than  from  men.  I  found 
after  a  while  that  this  guess  of  mine  was  a  good  one, 
and  that,  having  been  bred  an  artist,  he  had  been  put 
in  prison  for  some  political  offence,  and  had  in  two 
years  of  loneliness  learned  English  from  our  older 
authors.  When  at  last  he  was  set  free  he  took  his 
little  property  and  came  away  with  a  bitter  heart  to 
our  freer  land,  where,  with  what  he  had  and  with  the 
lessons  he  gave  in  drawing,  he  was  well  able  to  live 
the  life  he  liked  in  quiet  ease  and  comfort.  He  was 
a  kindly  man  in  his  ways,  and  in  his  talk  gently 
cynical ;  so  that,  although  you  might  be  quite  sure 
as  to  what  he  would  do,  you  were  never  as  safe  as  to 
what  he  would  say ;  wherefore  to  know  him  a  little 
was  to  dislike  him,  but  to  know  him  well  was  to  love 
him.  There  was  a  liking  between  him  and  Whole- 
some, but  each  was  more  or  less  a  source  of  wonder- 
ment to  the  other.  Nor  was  it  long  before  I  saw 
that  both  these  men  were  patient  lovers  in  their  way 
of  the  quiet  and  pretty  Quaker  dame  who  ruled  over 
our  little  household,  though  to  the  elder  man,  Mr. 
Schmidt,  she  was  a  being  at  whose  feet  he  laid  a 
homage  which  he  felt  to  be  hopeless  of  result,  while 
he  was  schooled  by  sorrowful  fortunes  to  accept  the 


218  THEE   AND   YOU 

position  as  one  which  he  hardly  even  wished  to 
change. 

It  was  on  a  warm  sunny  morning  very  early,  for 
we  were  up  and  away  betimes,  that  Mr.  Schmidt 
and  I  and  Wholesome  took  our  first  walk  together 
through  the  old  market-sheds.  We  turned  into 
Market  Street  at  Fourth  Street,  whence  the  sheds 
ran  downwards  to  the  Delaware.  The  pictures  they 
gave  me  to  store  away  in  my  mind  are  all  of  them 
vivid  enough,  but  none  more  so  than  that  which  I 
saw  with  my  two  friends  on  the  first  morning  when 
we  wandered  through  them  together. 

On  either  side  of  the  street  the  farmers'  wagons 
stood  backed  up  against  the  sidewalk,  each  making  a 
cheap  shop,  by  which  stood  the  sturdy  owners  under 
the  trees,  laughing  and  chaffering  with  their  custom- 
ers. We  ourselves  turned  aside  and  walked  down 
the  centre  of  the  street  under  the  sheds.  On  either 
side  at  the  entry  of  the  market,  odd  business  was 
being  plied,  the  traders  being  mostly  colored  women 
with  bright  chintz  dresses  and  richly-tinted  ban- 
danna handkerchiefs  coiled  turban-like  above  their 
dark  faces.  There  were  rows  of  roses  in  red  pots, 
and  venders  of  marsh  calamus,  and  "  Hot  corn,  sah, 
smokin'  hot,"  and  "  Pepper-pot,  bery  nice,"  and  sell- 
ers of  horse-radish  and  snapping-turtles,  and  of 
doughnuts  dear  to  grammar-school  lads.  Within 
the  market  was  a  crowd  of  gentlefolks,  followed  by 
their  black  servants  with  baskets, — the  elderly  men 
in  white  or  gray  stockings,  with  knee-buckles,  the 
younger  in  very  tight  nankeen  breeches  and  pumps, 
frilled  shirts,  and  ample  cravats,  and  long  blue  swal- 


THEE   AND   YOU  219 

low-tailed  coats  with  brass  buttons.  Ladies  whose 
grandchildren  go  no  more  to  market  were  there  in 
gowns  with  strangely  short  waists  and  broad  gypsy 
bonnets,  with  the  flaps  tied  down  by  wide  ribbons 
over  the  ears.  It  was  a  busy  and  good-humored 
throng. 

"  Ah,"  said  Schmidt,  "  what  color !"  and  he  stood 
quite  wrapped  in  the  joy  it  gave  him  looking  at  the 
piles  of  fruit,  where  the  level  morning  sunlight, 
broken  by  the  moving  crowd,  fell  on  great  heaps  of 
dark-green  watermelons  and  rough  cantaloupes,  and 
warmed  the  wealth  of  peaches  piled  on  trays  backed 
by  red  rows  of  what  were  then  called  love-apples, 
and  are  now  known  as  tomatoes ;  while  below  the 
royal  yellow  of  vast  overgrown  pumpkins  seemed  to 
have  set  the  long  summer  sunshine  in  their  golden 
cheeks. 

"  If  these  were  mine,"  said  Schmidt,  "  I  could  not 
forever  sell  them.  What  pleasure  to  see  them  grow 
and  steal  to  themselves  such  sweet  colors  out  of  the 
rainbow  which  is  in  the  light !" 

"  Thee  would  make  a  poor  gardener,"  said  Whole- 
some, "  sitting  on  thy  fence  in  the  sun  and  watching 
thy  pumpkins, — damn  nasty  things  anyhow !" 

I  looked  up  amazed  at  the  oath,  but  Schmidt  did 
not  seem  to  remark  it,  and  went  on  with  us,  lingering 
here  and  there  to  please  himself  with  the  lovely  con- 
trasts of  the  autumn  fruit. 

"  Curious  man  is  Schmidt,"  remarked  Wholesome 
as  we  passed  along.  "  I  could  wish  thee  had  seen 
him  when  we  took  him  this  way  first.  Old  Betsey, 
yonder,  sells  magnolia  flowers  in  June,  and  also  pond- 


220  THEE    AND    YOU 

lilies,  which  thee  may  know  as  reasonably  pleasant 
things  to  thee  or  me;  but  of  a  sudden  I  find  our 
friend  Schmidt  kneeling  on  the  pavement  with  his 
head  over  a  tub  of  these  flowers,  and  every  one 
around  much  amazed." 

"Was  it  not  seemly?"  said  Schmidt,  joining  us. 
"  There  are  those  who  like  music,  but  to  me  what 
music  is  there  like  the  great  attunement  of  color  ? 
and  mayhap  no  race  can  in  this  rise  over  our  black 
artists  hereabout  the  market-ends." 

"  Thee  is  crazed  of  many  colors,"  said  Wholesome, 
laughing, — "a  bull  of  but  one." 

Schmidt  stopped  short,  to  Wholesome's  disgust. 
"  What,"  said  he,  quite  forgetful  of  the  crowd,  "  is 
more  cordial  than  color  ?  This  he  recalleth  was  a 
woman  black  as  night,  with  a  red  turban  and  a  lapful 
of  magnolias,  and  to  one  side  red  crabs  in  a  basket, 
and  to  one  side  a  tubful  of  lilies.  Moss  all  about,  I 
remember." 

"  Come  along,"  said  Wholesome.  "  The  man  is 
cracked,  and  in  sunny  weather  the  crack  widens." 

And  so  we  went  away  down  street  to  our  several 
tasks,  chatting  and  amused. 

Those  were  most  happy  days  for  me,  and  I  found 
at  evening  one  of  my  greatest  pleasures  when 
Schmidt  called  for  me  after  our  early  tea  and  we 
would  stroll  together  down  to  the  Delaware,  where 
the  great  India  ships  lay  at  wharves  covered  with 
casks  of  madeira  and  boxes  of  tea  and  spices.  Then 
we  would  put  out  in  his  little  row-boat  and  pull  away 
toward  Jersey,  and,  after  a  plunge  in  the  river  at 
Cooper's  Point,  would  lazily  row  back  again  while 


THEE   AND   YOU  221 

the  spire  of  Christ  Church  grew  dim  against  the  fading 
sunset,  and  the  lights  would  begin  to  show  here  and 
there  in  the  long  line  of  sombre  houses.  By  this 
time  we  had  grown  to  be  sure  friends,  and  a  little 
help  from  me  at  a  moment  when  I  chanced  to  guess 
that  he  wanted  money  had  made  the  bond  yet 
stronger.  So  it  came  that  he  talked  to  me,  though  I 
was  but  a  lad,  with  a  curious  freedom,  which  very 
soon  opened  to  me  a  full  knowledge  of  those  with 
whom  I  lived. 

One  evening,  when  we  had  been  drifting  silently 
with  the  tide,  he  suddenly  said  aloud,  "  A  lion  in  the 
fleece  of  the  sheep." 

"What?"  said  I,  laughing. 

"  I  was  thinking  of  Wholesome,"  he  replied.  "  But 
you  do  not  know  him.  Yet  he  has  that  in  his  coun- 
tenance which  would  betray  a  more  cunning  crea- 
ture." 

"  How  so  ?"  I  urged,  being  eager  to  know  more  of 
the  man  who  wore  the  garb  and  tongue  of  Penn,  and 
could  swear  roundly  when  moved. 

"  If  it  will  amuse,"  said  the  German,  "  I  will  tell 
you  what  it  befell  me  to  hear  to-day,  being  come 
into  the  parlor  when  Mistress  White  and  Wholesome 
were  in  the  garden,  of  themselves  lonely." 

"  Do  you  mean,"  said  I,  "  that  you  listened  when 
they  did  not  know  of  your  being  there  ?" 

"  And  why  not  ?"  he  replied.  "  It  did  interest  me, 
and  to  them  only  good  might  come." 

"  But,"  said  I,  "  it  was  not " 

"Well?"  he  added,  as  I  paused," 'Was  not 

honor,'  you  were  going  to  say  to  me.  And  why 


222  THEE   AND    YOU 

not?     I  obey  my  nature,  which  is  more  curious  than 
stocked  with  honor.     I  did  listen." 

"  And  what  did  you  hear  ?"  said  I. 

"  Ah,  hear !"  he  answered.  "  What  better  is  the 
receiver  than  is  the  thief?  Well,  then,  if  you  will 
share  my  stolen  goods,  you  shall  know,  and  I  will 
tell  you  as  I  heard,  my  memory  being  good." 

«  But "  said  I. 

"  Too  late ;  you  stop  me,"  he  added :  "  you  must 
hear  now." 

The  scene  which  he  went  on  to  sketch  was  to  me 
strange  and  curious,  nor  could  I  have  thought  he 
could  give  so  perfect  a  rendering  of  the  language, 
and  even  the  accent,  of  the  two  speakers.  It  was 
also  a  revelation  of  the  man  himself,  and  he  seemed 
to  enjoy  his  power,  and  yet  to  suffer  in  the  telling, 
without  perhaps  being  fully  conscious  of  it.  The 
oars  dropped  from  his  hands  and  fell  in  against  the 
thwarts  of  the  boat,  and  he  clasped  his  knees  and 
looked  up  as  he  talked,  not  regarding  at  all  his 
single,  silent  listener. 

"  When  this  is  to  be  put  upon  the  stage  there  shall 
be  a  garden  and  two  personages." 

"Also,"  said  I,  "a  jealous  listener  behind  the 
scenes." 

"  If  you  please,"  he  said  promptly,  and  plunged  at 
once  into  the  dialogue  he  had  overheard  : 

" '  Richard,  thee  may  never  again  say  the  words 
which  thee  has  said  to  me  to-night.  There  is,  thee 
knows,  that  between  us  which  is  builded  up  like  as 
a  wall  to  keep  us  the  one  from  the  other.' 

"  '  But  men  and  women  change,  and  a  wall  crum- 


THEE   AND   YOU  223 

bles,  or  thee  knows  it  may  be  made  to.  Years  have 
gone  away,  and  the  man  who  stole  from  thee  thy 
promise  may  be  dead,  for  all  thee  knows.' 

"  '  Hush  !  thee  causes  me  to  see  him,  and  though 
the  dead  rise  not  here,  I  am  some  way  assured  he  is 
not  yet  dead,  and  may  come  and  say  to  me  "  'Cilia," 
— that  is  what  he  called  me, — "  thee  remembers  the 
night  and  thy  promise,  and  the  lightning  all  around 
us,  and  who  took  thee  to  shore  from  the  wrecked 
packet  on  the  Bulkhead  Bar."  The  life  he  saved  I 
promised.' 

" '  Well,  and  thee  knows By  Heaven !  you 

well  enough  know  who  tortured  the  life  he  gave, — 
who  robbed  you, — who  grew  to  be  a  mean  sot,  and 
went  away  and  left  you  ;  and  to  such  you  hold,  with 
such  keep  faith,  and  wear  out  the  sweetness  of  life 
waiting  for  him !' 

" '  Richard !' 

" '  Have  I  also  not  waited,  and  given  up  for  thee  a 
life,  a  career, — little  to  give.  I  hope  thee  knows  I 
feel  that.  Has  thee  no  limit,  Priscilla  ?  Thee  knows 
— God  help  me !  how  well  you  know — I  love  you. 
The  world,  the  old  world  of  war  and  venture,  pulls 
at  me  always.  Will  not  you  find  it  worth  while  to 
put  out  a  hand  of  help  ?  Would  it  not  be  God  taking 
your  hand  and  putting  it  in  mine  ?' 

"  '  Thee  knows  I  love  thee.' 

" '  And  if  the  devil  sent  him  back  to  curse  you 
anew ' 

"  '  Shame,  Richard !  I  would  say,  the  Lord  who 
layeth  out  for  each  his  way,  has  'pointed  mine.' 

"'And  I?' 


224  THEE    AND    YOU 

" '  Thee  would  continue  in  goodness,  loving  me 
as  a  sister  hardly  tried.' 

" '  By  God !  I  should  go  away  to  sea.' 

" '  Richard !' 

"  Which  is  the  last  word  of  this  scene,"  added 
Schmidt.  "  You  mayhap  have  about  you  punk  and 
flint  and  steel." 

I  struck  a  light  in  silence,  feeling  moved  by  the 
story  of  the  hurt  hearts  of  these  good  people,  and 
wondering  at  the  man  and  his  tale.  Then  I  said, 
"Was  that  all?" 

"  Could  you,  if  not  a  boy,  ask  me  to  say  more  of 
it?  Light  thy  pipe  and  hold  thy  peace.  Happy 
those  who  think  not  of  women.  I,  who  have  for  a 

hearth-side  only  the  fire  of  an  honest  pipe 'Way 

there,  my  lad !  pull  us  in  and  forget  what  a  loose 
tongue  and  a  soft  summer  night  have  given  thee  to 
hear  from  a  silly  old  German  who  is  grown  weak  of 
head  and  sore  at  soul.  How  the  lights  twinkle !" 

Had  I  felt  any  doubt  at  all  of  the  truth  of  his  nar- 
ration, I  should  have  ceased  to  do  so  when,  for  the 
next  few  days,  I  watched  Mr.  Wholesome,  and  saw 
him,  while  off  his  guard,  looking  at  Mistress  White 
askance  with  a  certain  wistful  sadness,  as  of  a  great 
honest  dog  somehow  hurt  and  stricken. 

When  an  India  ship  came  in,  the  great  casks  of 
madeira,  southside,  grape  juice,  bual,  and  what  not 
were  rolled  away  into  the  deep  cellars  of  the  India 
houses  on  the  wharves,  and  left  to  purge  their  vinous 
consciences  of  such  perilous  stuff  as  was  shaken  up 
from  their  depths  during  the  long  homeward  voyage. 
Then,  when  a  couple  of  months  had  gone  by,  it  was 


THEE   AND   YOU  225 

a  custom  for  the  merchant  to  summon  a  few  old  gen- 
tlemen to  a  solemn  tasting  of  the  wines  old  and  new. 
Of  this,  Mr.  Wholesome  told  me  one  day,  and  thought 
I  had  better  remain  to  go  through  the  cellars  and  drive 
out  the  bungs  and  drop  in  the  testers,  and  the  like. 
"I  will  also  stay  with  thee,"  he  added,  "knowing 
perhaps  better  than  thee  the  prices." 

I  learned  afterward  that  Wholesome  always  stayed 
on  these  occasions,  and  I  had  reason  to  be  glad  that 
I  too  was  asked  to  stay,  for,  as  it  chanced,  it  gave  me 
a  further  insight  into  the  character  of  my  friend  the 
junior  partner. 

I  recall  well  the  long  cellar  running  far  back  under 
Water  Street,  with  its  rows  of  great  casks,  of  which 
Wholesome  and  I  started  the  bungs  while  awaiting 
the  new-comers.  Presently  came  slowly  down  the 
cellar-steps  our  senior  partner  in  nankeen  shanks, 
silk  stockings,  and  pumps, — a  frosty-visaged  old 
man,  with  a  nose  which  had  fully  earned  the  right  to 
be  called  bottle.  Behind  him  limped  our  old  porter 
in  a  blue  check  apron.  He  went  round  the  cellar, 
and  at  every  second  cask,  having  lighted  a  candle, 
he  held  it  upside  down  until  the  grease  had  fallen 
thick  on  the  cask,  and  then  turning  the  candle  stuck 
it  fast  in  its  little  pile  of  tallow,  so  that  by  and  by 
the  cellar  was  pretty  well  lighted.  Presently,  in 
groups  or  singly,  came  old  and  middle-aged  gentle- 
men, and  with  the  last  our  friend  Schmidt,  who  wan- 
dered off  to  a  corner  and  sat  on  a  barrel-head  watch- 
ing the  effects  of  the  mingling  of  daylight  and  can- 
dlelight, and  amused  in  his  quiet  way  at  the  scene 
and  the  intense  interest  of  the  chief  actors  in  it, 


226  THEE   AND   YOU 

which,  like  other  things  he  did  not  comprehend,  had 
for  him  the  charm  of  oddness.  I  went  over  and 
stood  by  him  while  the  porter  dropped  the  tester- 
glass  into  the  cool  depths  of  cask  after  cask,  and 
solemn  counsel  was  held  and  grave  decisions  reached. 
I  was  enchanted  with  one  meagre,  little  old  gentle- 
man of  frail  and  refined  figure,  who  bent  over  his 
wine  with  closed  eyes,  as  if  to  shut  out  all  the  sense- 
impressions  he  did  not  need,  while  the  rest  waited  to 
hear  what  he  had  to  say. 

"  Needs  a  milk  fining,"  muttered  the  old  gentle- 
man, with  eyes  shut  as  if  in  prayer. 

"Wants  its  back  broke  with  a  good  lot  of  egg- 
shell," said  a  short,  stout  man  with  a  snuff-colored 
coat,  the  collar  of  which  came  well  up  the  back  of 
his  head. 

"  Ach !"  murmured  Schmidt.  "  The  back  to  be 
hurt  with  eggshell !  What  will  he  say  with  that  ?" 

"  Pshaw !"  said  a  third  :  "  give  it  a  little  rest,  and 
then  the  white  of  an  egg  to  every  five  gallons.  Is  it 
bual  ?" 

"  Is  it  gruel  ?"  said  our  senior  sarcastically. 

"  Wants  age.  A  good  wine  for  one's  grandchil- 
dren," murmured  my  old  friend  with  shut  eyes. 

"  What  is  it  he  calls  gruel  ?"  whispered  Schmidt. 
"  How  nice  is  a  picture  he  makes  when  he  shuts  his 
eyes  and  the  light  of  the  candle  comes  through  the 
wine,  all  bright  ruby,  in  the  dark  here !  And  ah, 
what  is  that  ?"  for  Wholesome,  who  had  been  taking 
his  wine  in  a  kindly  way,  and  having  his  say  with 
that  sense  of  being  always  sure  which  an  old  taster 
affects,  glancing  out  of  one  of  the  little  barred  cellar- 


THEE   AND   YOU  227 

windows  which  looked  out  over  the  wharf,  said  ab- 
ruptly, "  Ha  !  ha !  that  won't  do  1" 

Turning,  I  saw  under  the  broad-brimmed  hat  in 
the  clear  gray  eyes  a  sudden  sparkle  of  excitement 
as  he  ran  hastily  up  the  cellar-stairs.  Seeing  that 
something  unusual  was  afloat,  I  followed  him  quickly 
out  on  to  the  wharf,  where  presently  the  cause  of 
his  movement  was  made  plain. 

Beside  the  wharf  was  a  large  ship,  with  two  planks 
running  down  from  her  decks  to  the  wharf.  Just  at 
the  top  of  the  farther  one  from  us  a  large  black- 
haired,  swarthy  man  was  brutally  kicking  an  aged 
negro,  who  was  hastily  moving  downward,  clinging 
to  the  hand-rail.  Colored  folks  were  then  apt  to  be 
old  servants, — that  is  to  say,  friends, — and  this  was 
our  pensioned  porter,  old  Tom.  I  was  close  behind 
Wholesome  at  the  door  of  the  counting-house.  I 
am  almost  sure  he  said  "  Damnation !"  At  all  events, 
he  threw  down  his  hat,  and  in  a  moment  was  away 
up  the  nearer  plank  to  the  ship's  deck,  followed  by 
me.  Meanwhile,  however,  the  black  and  his  pur- 
suer had  reached  the  wharf,  where  the  negro,  stum- 
bling and  still  clinging  to  the  rail,  was  seized  by  the 
man  who  had  struck  him.  In  the  short  struggle 
which  ensued  the  plank  was  pulled  away  from  the 
ship's  side,  and  fell  just  as  Wholesome  was  about  to 
move  down  it.  He  uttered  an  oath,  caught  at  a  loose 
rope  which  hung  from  a  yard,  tried  it  to  see  if  it  was 
fast,  went  up  it  hand  over  hand  a  few  feet,  set  a  foot 
on  the  bulwarks,  and  swung  himself  fiercely  back 
across  the  ship,  and  then,  with  the  force  thus  gained, 
flew  far  in  air  above  the  wharf,  and  dropping  lightly 


228  THEE   AND   YOU 

on  to  a  pile  of  hogsheads,  leapt  without  a  word  to 
the  ground,  and  struck  out  with  easy  power  at  the 
man  he  sought,  who  fell  as  if  a  butcher's  mallet  had 
stunned  him, — fell,  and  lay  as  one  dead.  The  whole 
action  would  have  been  amazing  in  any  man,  but  to 
see  a  Quaker  thus  suddenly  shed  his  false  skin  and 
come  out  the  true  man  he  was,  was  altogether  be- 
wildering,— the  more  so  for  the  easy  grace  with 
which  the  feat  was  done.  Everybody  ran  forward, 
while  Wholesome  stood,  a  strange  picture,  his  eyes 
wide  open  and  his  pupils  dilated,  his  face  flushed  and 
lips  a  little  apart,  showing  his  set  white  teeth  while 
he  awaited  his  foe.  Then,  as  the  man  rallied  and  sat 
up,  staring  wildly,  Wholesome  ran  forward  and  looked 
at  him,  waving  the  crowd  aside.  In  a  moment,  as 
the  man  rose  still  bewildered,  his  gaze  fell  on  Whole- 
some, and,  growing  suddenly  white,  he  sat  down  on 
a  bundle  of  staves,  saying  faintly,  "  Take  him  away ! 
Don't  let  him  come  near !" 

"  Coward!"  said  I;  "  one  might  have  guessed  that." 

"There  is  to  him,"  said  Schmidt  at  my  elbow, 
"  some  great  mortal  fear ;  the  soul  is  struck." 

"  Yes,"  said  Wholesome,  "  the  soul  is  struck. 
Some  one  help  him," — for  the  man  had  fallen  over 
in  something  like  a  fit, — and  so  saying  strode  away, 
thoughtful  and  disturbed  in  face,  as  one  who  had 
seen  a  ghost. 

As  he  entered  the  counting-house  through  the 
group  of  dignified  old  merchants,  who  had  come  out 
to  see  what  it  all  meant,  one  of  them  said,  "  Pretty 
well  for  a  Quaker,  Friend  Richard !" 

Wholesome  did  not  seem  to  hear  him,  but  walked 


THEE   AND   YOU  22Q 

in,  drank  a  glass  of  wine  which  stood  on  a  table,  and 
sat  down  silently. 

"  Not  the  first  feat  of  that  kind  he  has  done,"  said 
the  elder  of  the  wine-tasters. 

"  No,"  said  a  sea-captain  near  by.  "  He  boarded 
the  Penelope  in  that  fashion  during  the  war,  and  as 
he  lit  on  her  deck  cleared  a  space  with  his  cutlass 
till  the  boarding-party  joined  him." 

"  With  his  cutlass  ?"  said  I.  "  Then  he  was  not 
always  a  Quaker  ?" 

"No,"  said  our  senior;  "they  don't  learn  these 
gymnastics  at  Fourth  and  Arch,  though  perchance 
the  overseers  may  have  a  word  to  say  about  it." 

"  Quaker  or  not,"  said  the  wine-taster,  "  I  wish  any 
of  you  had  legs  as  good  or  a  heart  as  sound.  Very 
good  body,  not  too  old,  and  none  the  worse  for  a 
Quaker  fining." 

"  That's  the  longest  sentence  I  ever  heard  Wilton 
speak,"  said  a  young  fellow  aside  to  me ;  "  and,  by 
Jove !  he  is  right." 

I  went  back  into  the  counting-house  and  was 
struck  with  the  grim  sadness  of  face  of  our  junior 
partner.  He  had  taken  up  a  paper  and  affected  to  be 
reading,  but,  as  I  saw,  was  staring  into  space.  Our 
senior  said  something  to  him  about  Old  Tom,  but  he 
answered  in  an  absent  way,  as  one  who  half  hears  or 
half  heeds.  In  a  few  moments  he  looked  up  at  the 
clock,  which  was  on  the  stroke  of  twelve,  and  seeing 
me  ready,  hat  in  hand,  to  return  home  for  our  one- 
o'clock  dinner,  he  gathered  himself  up,  as  it  were, 
limb  by  limb,  and  taking  his  wide-brimmed  hat 
brushed  it  absently  with  his  sleeve.  Then  he  looked 


230  THEE   AND   YOU 

at  it  a  moment  with  a  half  smile,  put  it  on  decisively 
and  went  out  and  away  up  Arch  Street  with  swifter 
and  swifter  strides.  By  and  by  he  said,  "  You  do 
not  walk  as  well  as  usual." 

"  But,"  said  I,  "  no  one  could  keep  up  with  you." 

"  Do  not  try  to ;  leave  a  sore  man  to  nurse  his 
hurts.  I  suppose  you  saw  my  folly  on  the  wharf, — 
saw  how  I  forgot  myself?" 

"  Ach !"  said  Schmidt,  who  had  toiled  after  us  hot 
and  red,  and  who  now  slipped  his  quaint  form  in  be- 
tween us ;  "  Ach  !  '  You  forgot  yourself.'  This  say 
you  ?  I  do  think  you  did  remember  your  true  self 
for  a  time  this  morning." 

"  Hush !  I  am  a  man  ashamed.  Let  us  talk  no 
more  of  it.  I  have  ill  kept  my  faith,"  returned 
Wholesome,  impatiently. 

"  You  may  believe  God  doth  not  honor  an  honest 
man,"  said  Schmidt ;  "  which  is  perhaps  a  God 
Quaker,  not  the  God  I  see  to  myself." 

I  had  so  far  kept  my  peace,  noting  the  bitter  self- 
reproach  of  Wholesome,  and  having  a  lad's  shyness 
before  an  older  man's  calamity ;  but  now  I  said  in- 
dignantly, "  If  it  be  Friends'  creed  to  see  the  poor 
and  old  and  feeble  hurt  without  raising  a  hand,  let 
us  pray  to  be  saved  from  such  religion." 

"  But,"  said  Wholesome,  "  I  should  have  spoken 
to  him  in  kindness  first.  Now  I  have  only  made  of 
him  a  worse  beast,  and  taught  him  more  hatred. 
And  he  of  all  men !" 

"  There  is  much  salvation  in  some  mistakes,"  said 
Schmidt,  smiling. 

Just  then  we  were  stopped  by  two  middle-aged 


THEE   AND   YOU  231 

Friends  in  drab  of  orthodox  tint,  from  which  now- 
adays Friends  have  much  fallen  away  into  gay 
browns.  They  asked  a  question  or  two  about  an 
insurance  on  one  of  our  ships;  and  then  the  elder 
said,  "  Thy  hand  seems  bleeding,  Friend  Richard ;" 
which  was  true ;  he  had  cut  his  knuckles  on  his  op- 
ponent's teeth,  and  around  them  had  hastily  wrapped 
a  handkerchief  which  showed  stains  of  blood  here 
and  there. 

"  Ach  !"  said  Schmidt,  hastening  to  save  his  friend 
annoyance.  "  He  ran  against  something.  And  how 
late  is  it !  Let  us  go." 

But  Wholesome,  who  would  have  no  man  lie  ever 
so  little  for  his  benefit,  said  quietly,  "  I  hurt  it  knock- 
ing a  man  down ;"  and  now  for  the  first  time  to-day 
I  observed  the  old  amused  look  steal  over  his  hand- 
some face  and  set  it  a-twitching  with  some  sense  of 
humor  as  he  saw  the  shock  which  went  over  the 
faces  of  the  two  elders  when  we  bade  them  good- 
morning  and  turned  away. 

Wholesome  walked  on  quickly,  and  as  it  seemed 
plain  that  he  would  be  alone,  we  dropped  behind. 

"  What  is  all  this  ?"  said  I.  "  Does  a  man  grieve 
thus  because  he  chastises  a  scoundrel  ?" 

"No,"  said  Schmidt.  "The  Friend  Wholesome 
was,  as  you  may  never  yet  know,  an  officer  of  the 
navy,  and  when  your  war  being  done  he  comes  here, 
there  is  a  beautiful  woman  whom  he  must  fall  to 
loving,  and  this  with  some  men  being  a  grave  disor- 
der, he  must  go  and  spoil  a  good  natural  man  with 
the  clothes  of  a  Quaker,  seeing  that  what  the  woman 
did  was  good  in  his  sight." 


232  THEE   AND   YOU 

"  But,"  said  I,  "  I  don't  understand." 

"  No,"  said  he ;  "  yet  you  have  read  of  Eve  and 
Adam.  Sometimes  they  give  us  good  apples  and 
sometimes  bad.  This  was  a  russet,  as  it  were,  and  at 
times  the  apple  disagrees  with  him  for  that  with  the 
new  apple  he  got  not  a  new  stomach." 

I  laughed  a  little,  but  said, "  This  is  not  all.  There 
was  something  between  him  and  the  man  he  struck 
which  we  do  not  yet  know.  Did  you  see  him?" 

"  Yes,  and  before  this, — last  week  some  time  in  the 
market-place.  He  was  looking  at  Old  Dinah's  tub 
of  white  lilies  when  I  noticed  him,  and  to  me  came 
a  curious  thinking  of  how  he  was  so  unlike  them, 
many  people  having  for  me  flower-likeness,  and  this 
man,  being  of  a  yellow  swarthiness  and  squat- 
browed,  minded  me  soon  of  the  toadstool  you  call  a 
corpse-light." 

"  Perhaps  we  shall  know  some  time ;  but  here  is 
home,  and  will  he  speak  of  it  to  Mistress  White,  do 
you  think  ?" 

"  Not  ever,  I  suppose,"  said  Schmidt ;  and  we  went 
in. 

The  sight  we  saw  troubled  me.  In  the  little  back 
parlor,  at  a  round  mahogany  table  with  scrolled 
edges  and  claw  toes  sat  facing  the  light  Mistress 
White.  She  was  clad  in  a  gray  silk  with  tight 
sleeves,  and  her  profusion  of  rich  chestnut  hair,  with 
its  wilful  curliness  that  forbade  it  to  be  smooth  on 
her  temples,  was  coiled  in  a  great  knot  at  the  back 
of  her  head.  Its  double  tints  and  strange  change- 
fulness,  and  the  smooth  creamy  cheeks  with  their 
moving  islets  of  roses  that  would  come  and  go  at  a 


THEE   AND   YOU  233 

word,  were  pretty  protests  of  Nature,  I  used  to 
think,  against  the  demure  tints  of  her  pearl-gray 
silken  gown.  She  was  looking  out  into  the  garden, 
quite  heedless  of  the  older  dame,  who  sat  as  her 
wont  was  between  the  windows,  and  chirruped  now 
and  then,  mechanically,  "  Has  thee  a  four-leaved 
clover  ?"  As  I  learned  some  time  after,  one  of  out 
older  clerks,  perhaps  with  a  little  malice  of  self-com- 
fort at  the  fall  of  his  senior's  principles,  had,  on 
coming  home,  told  her  laughingly  all  the  story  of 
the  morning.  Perhaps  one  should  be  a  woman  and 
a  Friend  to  enter  into  her  feelings.  She  was  tied  by 
a  promise  and  by  a  sense  of  personal  pledge  to  a 
low  and  disgraced  man,  and  then  coming  to  love  an- 
other despite  herself  she  had  grown  greatly  to  honor 
him.  She  might  reason  as  she  would  that  only  a 
sense  of  right  and  a  yearning  for  the  fulness  of  a  right- 
eous life  had  made  him  give  up  his  profession  and 
fellows,  and  turn  aside  to  follow  the  harder  creed  of 
Fox,  but  she  well  knew  with  a  woman's  keenness  of 
view  that  she  herself  had  gone  for  something  in  this 
change;  and  now,  as  sometimes  before,  she  re- 
proached herself  with  his  failures.  As  we  came  in 
she  hastily  dried  her  eyes  and  went  out  of  the  room. 
At  dinner  little  was  said,  but  in  the  afternoon  there 
was  a  scene  of  which  I  came  to  know  all  a  good 
while  later. 

Some  of  us  had  gone  back  to  the  afternoon  work 
when  Mr.  Wholesome,  who  had  lingered  behind, 
strayed  thoughtfully  into  the  little  back  garden. 
There  under  a  thin-leaved  apricot  tree  sat  Mistress 
White,  very  pretty,  with  her  long  fair  ringers  clasped 


234  THEE   AND   YOU 

over  a  book  which  lay  face  down  on  her  lap.  Pres- 
ently she  was  aware  of  Richard  Wholesome  walking 
to  and  fro  and  smoking  a  long-stemmed  clay  pipe, 
then,  as  yet  in  England,  called  a  churchwarden. 
These  were  two  more  than  commonly  good-looking 
persons,  come  of  sturdy  English  stock,  fined  down 
by  that  in  this  climate  which  has  taken  the  coarse- 
ness of  line  and  feature  out  of  so  many  of  oui 
broods,  and  has  made  more  than  one  English  painter 
regret  that  the  Vandyke  faces  had  crossed  the  ocean 
to  return  no  more. 

Schmidt  and  I  looked  out  a  moment  into  the  long 
vista  where,  between  the  rose-boughs  bending  from 
either  wall  under  the  apricot,  we  could  see  the  gray 
silvery  shimmer  of  the  woman's  dress,  and  beyond 
it,  passing  to  and  fro,  the  broad  shoulders  of  the  ex- 
captain. 

"Come,"  I  said,  "walk  down  with  me  to  the 
wharf." 

"  Yet  leave  me,"  he  returned.  "  I  shall  wisely  do 
to  sit  here  on  the  step  over  the  council-fire  of  my  pipe. 
Besides,  when  there  are  not  markets  and  flowers, 
and  only  a  straight-down,  early-afternoon  sun,  I 
shall  find  it  a  more  noble  usage  of  time  to  see  of  my 
drama  another  scene.  The  actors  are  good ;"  and 
he  pointed  with  his  pipe-stem  down  to  the  garden. 
"And  this,"  he  said,  "is  the  mute  chorus  of  the 
play,"  indicating  a  kitten  which  had  made  prey  of 
the  grand-dame's  ball  of  worsted,  and  was  rolling  it 
here  and  there  with  delight. 

"  But,"  I  answered,  "  it  is  not  right  or  decent  to 
spy  upon  others'  actions." 


THEE   AND   YOU  235 

"  For  right !"  he  said.  "  Ach  !  what  I  find  right 
to  me  is  my  right ;  and  for  decent,  I  understand  you 
not.  But  if  I  tell  you  what  is  true,  I  find  my  pleas- 
ure to  sit  here  and  see  the  maiden  when  at  times  the 
winds  pull  up  the  curtain  of  the  leaves." 

"  Well !  well !"  said  I,  for  most  of  the  time  he  was 
not  altogether  plain  as  to  what  he  meant,  as  when  he 
spoke  of  the  cat  as  a  chorus.  "  Well !  well !  you 
will  go  out  with  me  on  the  water  at  sundown  ?" 

"  That  may  be,"  he  answered ;  and  I  went  away. 

I  have  observed  since  then,  in  the  long  life  I  have 
lived,  that  the  passion  called  love,  when  it  is  a  hope- 
less one,  acts  on  men  as  ferments  do  on  fluids  after 
their  kind, — turning  some  to  honest  wine  and  some  to 
vinegar.  With  our  stout  little  German  all  trials  seemed 
to  be  of  the  former  use,  so  that  he  took  no  ill  from 
those  hurts  and  bruises  which  leave  other  men  sore 
and  tender.  Indeed,  he  talked  of  Mistress  White  to 
me,  or  even  to  Wholesome,  whom  he  much  embar- 
rassed, in  a  calm,  half-amused  way,  as  of  a  venture 
which  he  had  made,  and,  having  failed,  found  it  pleas- 
ant to  look  back  upon  as  an  experience  not  altogether 
to  be  regretted.  We  none  of  us  knew  until  much 
later  that  it  was  more  than  a  mere  fancy  for  a  woman 
who  was  altogether  so  sweet  and  winsome  that  no  man 
needed  an  excuse  for  loving  her.  When  by  and  by  I 
also  came  to  love  a  good  woman,  I  used  to  try  myself 
by  the  measure  of  this  man's  lack  of  self-love,  and  won- 
der how  he  could  have  seen  with  good-will  the  woman 
he  cared  for  come  to  like  another  man  better.  This 
utter  sweetness  of  soul  has  ever  been  to  me  a  riddle. 

An  hour  passed  by,  when  Schmidt  heard  a  footfall 


236  THEE   AND   YOU 

in  the  room  behind  him,  and  rising  saw  an  old  mem- 
ber of  the  Society  of  Friends  who  came  at  times  to 
our  house,  and  was  indeed  trustee  of  a  small  estate 
which  belonged  to  Mistress  White.  Nicholas  Old- 
mixon  was  an  overseer  in  the  Fourth  Street  meeting, 
and  much  looked  up  to  among  Friends  as  a  prompt 
and  vigilant  guardian  of  their  discipline.  Perhaps 
he  would  have  been  surprised  to  be  told  that  he  had 
that  in  his  nature  which  made  the  post  of  official 
fault-finder  agreeable ;  but  so  it  was,  I  fancy,  and  he 
was  here  on  such  an  errand.  The  asceticism  of 
Friends  in  those  days,  and  the  extent  to  which  Mr. 
Oldmixon,  like  the  more  strict  of  his  sect,  carried 
his  views  as  to  gravity  of  manner  and  the  absence 
of  color  in  dress  and  furniture,  were  especially  hate- 
ful to  Schmidt,  who  lived  and  was  happy  in  a  region 
of  color  and  sentiment  and  gayety.  Both,  I  doubt 
not,  were  good  men,  but  each  was  by  nature  and 
training  altogether  unable  to  sympathize  with  the 
other. 

"  Good-evening  I"  said  Schmidt,  keeping  his  seat 
in  the  low  window-sill. 

Mr.  Oldmixon  returned,  "Thee  is  well,  I  trust?" 

"  Ach !  with  such  a  sun  and  the  last  roses,  which 
seem  the  most  sweet,  and  these  most  lovely  of  fall- 
flowers,  and  a  good  book  and  a  pipe,"  said  Schmidt, 
"  who  will  not  be  well  ?  Have  you  the  honest  bless- 
ing of  being  a  smoker  ?" 

"  Nay,"  said  the  Quaker,  with  evident  guarding  of 
his  words.  "  Thee  will  not  take  it  amiss  should  I 
say  it  is  a  vain  waste  of  time  ?" 

"  But,"  answered  Schmidt,  "  time  hath  many  uses. 


THEE   AND   YOU  237 

The  one  is  to  be  wasted ;  and  this  a  pipe  mightily 
helps.  I  did  think  once,  when  I  went  to  meeting, 
how  much  more  solemn  it  would  be  for  each  man  to 
have  a  pipe  to  excuse  his  silence." 

"  Thee  jests  idly,  I  fear,"  said  the  Friend,  coloring, 
and  evidently  holding  himself  in  check.  "  Is  that 
friend  Wholesome  in  the  garden  ?  I  have  need  to 
see  him." 

"  Yea,"  said  Schmidt,  with  a  broad  smile,  "  he  is 
yonder  under  a  tree,  like  Adam  in  the  garden.  Let 
us  take  a  peep  at  Paradise." 

Mr.  Oldmixon  held  his  peace,  and  walked  quietly 
out  of  the  window  and  down  the  gravelled  path. 
There  were  some  who  surmised  that  his  years  and 
his  remembrance  of  the  three  wives  he  had  outlived 
did  not  altogether  suffice  to  put  away  from  him  a 
strong  sentiment  of  the  sweetness  of  his  ward.  Per- 
haps it  was  this  notion  which  lit  up  with  mirth  the 
ruddy  face  of  the  German  as  he  walked  down  the 
garden  behind  the  slim  ascetic  figure  of  the  overseer 
of  meeting  in  his  broad  hat  and  drab  clothes.  On 
the  way  the  German  plucked  a  dozen  scarlet  roses,  a 
late  geranium  or  two,  and  a  few  leaves  of  motley 
Poinsetta. 

Wholesome  paused  a  moment  to  greet  the  new- 
comer quietly,  and  straightway  betook  himself  ab- 
sently to  his  walk  again  to  and  fro  across  the  garden. 
Mistress  White  would  have  had  the  old  overseer 
take  her  seat,  but  this  he  would  not  do.  He  stood 
a  moment  near  her,  as  if  irresolute,  while  Schmidt 
threw  himself  down  on  the  sward,  and,  half  turning 
over,  tossed  roses  into  the  gray  lap  of  Mistress 


238  THEE   AND   YOU 

White,  saying,  "  How  prettily  the  God  of  heaven  has 
dressed  them !" 

Mistress  White  took  up  the  flowers,  not  answering 
the  challenge,  but  glancing  under  her  long  lashes  at 
the  ex-captain,  to  whom  presently  the  overseer  turned, 
saying,  "  Would  thee  give  me  a  word  or  two  with  thee 
by  ourselves,  Richard?" 

"  There  are  none  in  the  parlor,"  said  Priscilla,  "  if 
thee  will  talk  there." 

"If,"  said  Wholesome,  "it  be  of  business,  let  it 
wait  till  to-morrow,  and  I  will  call  upon  thee :  I  am 
not  altogether  myself  to-day." 

"  Nay,"  said  Nicholas,  gathering  himself  up  a  little, 
"  thee  must  know  theeself  that  I  would  not  come  to 
thee  here  for  business :  thee  knows  my  exactness  in 
such  matters." 

"  And  for  what,  then,  are  you  come  ?"  said  Whole- 
some, with  unusual  abruptness. 

"  For  speech  of  that  in  thy  conduct  which  were 
better,  as  between  an  elder  Friend  and  a  younger, 
to  be  talked  over  alone,"  said  Mr.  Oldmixon,  se- 
verely. 

Now,  Wholesome,  though  disgusted  by  his  lack 
of  power  to  keep  the  silent  pledges  he  had  given 
when  he  entered  the  Society  of  Friends,  was  not 
dissatisfied  with  his  conduct  as  judged  by  his  own 
standard  of  right  Moreover,  like  many  warm- 
hearted people,  he  was  quick  of  temper,  as  we  have 
seen.  His  face  flushed,  and  he  paused  beside  the 
overseer :  "  There  are  none  here  who  do  not  know 
most  of  what  passed  this  morning ;  but  as  you  do 
not  know  all,  let  me  advise  you  to  hold  your  peace 


THEE   AND   YOU  239 

and  go  your  ways,  and  leave  me  to  such  reproach  as 
God  may  send  me." 

"  If  that  God  send  thee  any,"  muttered  Schmidt. 

But  Nicholas  Oldmixon  was  like  a  war-horse 
smelling  the  battle  afar  off,  and  anything  like  resist- 
ance to  an  overseer  in  the  way  of  duty  roused  him 
into  the  sternness  which  by  no  means  belonged  to 
the  office,  but  rather  to  the  man.  "  If,"  he  said, 
"  any  in  membership  with  us  do  countenance  or  pro- 
mote tumults,  they  shall  be  dealt  with  as  disorderly 
persons.  Wherefore  did  thee  give  way  to  rash  vio- 
lence this  morning  ?" 

Priscilla  grew  pale.  "  I  think,"  she  said,  "  Friend 
Nicholas,  thee  forgets  the  Christian  courtesy  of  our 
people  one  to  another.  Let  it  rest  a  while ;  friend 
Richard  may  come  to  think  better  of  it  by  and  by." 

"  And  that  I  trust  he  may  never,"  muttered  Schmidt. 

But  the  overseer  was  not  to  be  stayed.  "  Thee 
would  do  better  to  mind  the  things  of  thy  house  and 
leave  us,"  he  said.  "  The  ways  of  this  young  man 
have  been  more  than  once  a  scandal,  and  are  like  to 
come  before  the  meeting  to  be  dealt  with." 

"  Sir,"  returned  Wholesome,  approaching  him  and 
quite  forgetting  his  plain  speech  to  make  it  plainer, 
"  your  manners  do  little  credit  to  your  age  or  your 
place.  Listen :  I  told  you  to  speak  no  more  of  this 
matter ;"  and  he  seized  him  by  the  lappel  of  his  coat 
and  drew  him  aside  a  few  paces.  "  For  your  own  sake, 
I  mean.  Let  it  die  out,  with  no  more  of  talk  or 
nonsense." 

"For  my  sake!"  exclaimed  the  overseer;  "and 
why  ?  Most  surely  thee  forgets  theeself." 


240  THEE   AND   YOU 

"For  your  own  sake,"  said  Wholesome,  drawing 
him  still  farther  away,  and  bending  toward  him,  so 
that  his  words  were  lost  to  Schmidt  and  Priscilla, 
"  and  for  your  son  John's.  It  was  he  whom  I  struck 
to-day." 

Mr.  Oldmixon  grew  white  and  staggered  as  if 
stricken.  "  Why  did  thee  not  come  and  tell  me  ?" 
he  said.  "  It  had  been  kinder ;  and  where  is  that 
unhappy  man  ?" 

"  I  do  not  know,"  returned  Wholesome. 

"  Nevertheless,  be  it  he  or  another,  thee  was  in  the 
wrong,  and  I  have  done  my  duty.  And  is  my  un- 
happy son  yet  alive  ?"  and  so  saying,  he  turned  away, 
and  without  other  words  walked  through  the  house 
with  uncertain  steps  and  went  down  the  street,  while 
Wholesome,  with  softened  face,  watched  him  from 
the  doorstep.  Then  he  went  back  quietly  into  the 
garden,  and  turning  to  Schmidt,  said,  "  Will  you 
oblige  me  by  leaving  me  with  Mistress  White?  I 
will  explain  to  thee  by  and  by." 

Schmidt  looked  up  surprised,  but  seeing  how  pale 
and  stern  he  looked,  rose  and  went  into  the  house. 
The  woman  turned  expectant. 

"  Priscilla,  the  time  has  come  when  thee  must 
choose  between  me  and  him." 

"  He  has  come  back  ?  I  always  knew  he  would 
come." 

"  Yes,  he  has  come  back ;  I  saw  him  to-day,"  said 
Wholesome,  "  and  the  John  Oldmixon  of  to-day  is 
more  than  ever  cruel  and  brutal.  Will  thee  trust  me 
to  make  thee  believe  that?" 

"  I  believe  thee,"  she  returned ;  "  but  because  he  is 


THEE   AND   YOU  241 

this  and  worse,  shall  I  forget  my  word  or  turn  aside 
from  that  which,  if  bitter  for  me,  may  save  his  soul 
alive  ?" 

"  And  yet  you  love  me  ?" 

"  Have  I  not  said  so  ?"  she  murmured,  with  a  half 
smile. 

The  young  man  came  closer  and  seized  both  hands 
in  his :  "  Will  it  not  be  a  greater  sin,  loving  me,  to 
marry  him  ?" 

"  But  he  may  never  ask  me,  and  then  I  shall  wait, 
for  I  had  better  die  fit  in  soul  to  be  thy  wife  than 
come  to  thee  unworthy  of  a  good  man's  love." 

He  dropped  her  hands  and  moved  slowly  away, 
she  watching  him  with  full  eyes.  Then  he  turned  and 
said,  "But  should  he  fall — fall  as  he  must — and  come 
to  be  what  his  life  will  surely  make  him,  a  felon  whom 
no  woman  could  marry " 

"Thee  makes  duty  hard  for  me,  Richard,"  she 
answered.  "  Do  not  make  me  think  thee  cruel. 
When  in  God's  good  time  he  shall  send  me  back  the 
words  of  promise  I  wrote  when  he  went  away  a  dis- 
graced man,  to  whom,  nevertheless,  I  owed  my  life, 

then Oh,  Richard,  I  love  thee !  Do  not  hurt 

me.  Pray  for  me  and  him." 

"  God  help  us !"  he  said.  "  We  have  great  need  to 
be  helped ;"  and  suddenly  leaning  over  he  kissed  her 
forehead  for  the  first  time,  and  went  away  up  the  gar- 
den and  into  the  house. 

The  soft  September  days  were  past,  and  the  crisp 
October  freshness  was  with  us  before  my  little  drama 
went  a  step  further.  Wholesome  had  got  into  a 
fashion  of  seeking  loneliness,  and  thus  Schmidt  and 


242  THEE   AND   YOU 

I  were  more  than  ever  thrown  together.  So  it  came 
that  on  a  Saturday, — which  to  me,  a  somewhat  priv- 
ileged person  in  the  counting-house,  was  always  a 
half-holiday, — and  on  Sunday  afternoon,  if  I  went 
not  to  Christ  Church,  we  were  wont  to  wander  at 
will  about  the  lovely  country  along  the  Schuylkill  or 
up  the  Wissahickon  talking  of  many  things.  Nor 
did  Schmidt  ever  tire  of  the  crowded  market-place, 
and  although  in  our  walks  he  talked  of  what  he  saw 
there  and  elsewhere  as  with  a  child's  pleasure  in  his 
own  thoughts  and  words,  they  never  wearied  me. 
To  many  he  w£s  more  odd  than  pleasant,  because  on 
all  subjects  and  at  all  times  he  turned  himself  inside 
out,  with  little  regard  to  what  he  had  to  say  or  who 
heard  him.  I  recall  well  some  of  our  morning 
strolls. 

"  Let  us  walk  serenely,"  he  said.  (I  suppose  he 
meant  slowly  enough  to  think.)  "  The  Wholesome 
goes  before,  and  with  what  a  liberal  strength  he 
walks !  How  beautiful  to  see !  As  if  he  would  give 
away  his  legs  when  he  walks,  so  much  is  there  of 
strength  he  needs  not  in  the  Quaker  life." 

"  I  cannot  see  yet,"  I  said,  "  why  he  must  turn 
Quaker.  I  would  have  trusted  that  man  with  untold 
gold  or  a  woman's  honor  the  first  half-hour  he  talked 
to  me." 

"  I  like  not  that  sect,"  returned  Schmidt.  "  It  does 
make  nicer  women  than  men.  Should  there  be  two 
religions  for  the  two  sexes  ?  and  do  you  think  ever 
Penn  and  Mr.  Fox  did  take  among  the  women  a 
vote  when  they  went  to  the  queerness  of  robe  which 
is  theirs  ?" 


THEE   AND   YOU  243 

"  I  have  heard,"  I  said,  "  that  it  is  only  a  continu- 
ance of  the  plainer  fashions  of  their  own  time." 

"  And  why,"  he  said,  "  should  to-day  wear  the 
garments  of  a  century  away  ?  And  does  not  Nature 
mock  their  foolish  customs  ?  Even  now  behold  how 
pretty  a  sight  is  this."  And  he  paused  before  a  stall 
where  the  ripe  Spanish  watermelons  split  into  halves 
showed  their  gorgeous  red.  "  How  spendthrift  is 
Nature  of  her  tints !  and  in  the  peach-time  there  is  a 
pleasure  to  eat  of  this  scarlet !  I  thought  it  so  pretty 
last  week  when  we  dined  with  Mr.  Wilton, — the  red 
melons  on  the  shining  brown  mahogany,  and  the 
gray-greens  of  the  apples,  and  the  Heath  peaches, 
soft  and  rosy,  with  the  ruby  of  the  madeira  wine. 
How  charming  a  thing  is  a  table  after  dinner  what 
few  do  ever  think  1" 

"  Stop !"  I  said :  "  look  there !"  A  little  way  be- 
fore us,  in  simple  tints  of  gray  serge,  and  with  rebel 
curls  peeping  out  under  her  stiff,  ugly  silk  bonnet, 
Priscilla  was  moving  down  the  market.  She  was 
busy  with  her  daily  marketing,  and  behind  or  beside 
her  was  our  old  brown  Nancy,  trim  and  cleanly,  with 
her  half-filled  basket.  A  few  steps  in  the  rear  was  a 
man  who  paused  and  held  back  as  she  stopped,  and 
then  went  on.  As  I  caught  his  side  face  and  hungry 
eyes,  and  a  certain  hyena-like  swiftness  of  impatient 
movement,  I  knew  him  for  the  man  whom  Whole- 
some had  struck  on  the  wharf  a  few  weeks  before. 
Now  he  was  clad  in  the  height  of  the  fashion,  with 
striped  silken  hose,  tight  nankeen  breeches,  a  brown 
swallow-tailed  coat,  and  an  ample  cambric  cravat. 
The  bright  brass  buttons  were  new,  the  beaver  hat, 


244  THEE   AND   YOU 

scroll-rimmed  and  broad  on  top,  was  faultlessly 
brushed. 

"  Ach !"  said  Schmidt,  "  a  devil  which  is  handsome 
for  little  of  good !  The  plainer  parent  must  have 
been  made  to  be  liberal  of  money  to  plume  the  fine 
bird." 

Just  then  the  man  looked  round,  and,  Whole- 
some being  gone  on  ahead,  and  seeing  no  one  he 
knew,  he  paused  beside  Priscilla  and  spoke  to  her. 
What  he  said  we  did  not  hear.  She  turned,  a  little 
startled,  and  dropped  her  purse.  The  man  set  his 
foot  on  it,  and  stooping  as  if  to  look  for  it,  deftly 
picked  it  up  and  slipped  it  into  his  pocket. 

I  started  forward. 

"  Nay,"  said  Schmidt,  "  the  audience  shall  not 
spoil  the  play.  Wait." 

Her  face  grew  pale,  and  I  at  least  thought  she  saw 
but  would  not  notice  the  mean  theft.  A  few  brief 
words  passed  between  them.  He  asked  something, 
and  she  hesitated,  I  thought.  Then  a  few  more 
words,  and  as  we  went  by  I  heard  her  say  something 
about  the  afternoon,  and  then  with  a  word  more  he 
turned  and  left  her. 

"  Also,"  said  Schmidt,  "  the  plot  thickens.  How 
handsome  and  foul  he  is,  with  that  visage  clean 
shaven  and  the  nose  of  hawk !  We  shall  see  when 
all  the  performers  are  come  upon  the  stage.  Good- 
by !  I  go  to  see  if  further  he  will  amuse  me." 

For  my  part,  bewildered  at  Priscilla's  knowledge 
of  this  ruffian,  astonished  at  his  gay  change  of  dress, 
and  recalling  his  emotion  on  the  wharf,  I  also  began 
to  feel  an  interest  in  the  drama  going  on  about  me. 


THEE   AND   YOU  245 

After  dinner  next  day,  when  her  guests  save  myself 
had  gone  away  to  their  several  tasks,  Mistress  Pris- 
cilla  in  the  garden  grew  busy  among  the  roses  with 
the  dead  leaves  and  the  bugs.  A  very  pretty  picture 
she  made,  and  if  I  had  been  a  painter  it  is  thus  I  should 
have  wished  to  paint  her.  Against  the  wall  of  dark- 
red  brick  the  long  bending  rose-branches  made  a  bri- 
ery hedge  of  green  and  leafy  curves,  flecked  here  and 
there  with  roses  red,  white,  and  pink ;  and  against 
this  background  there  was  the  charming  outline  of 
Priscilla  in  ashen-tinted  silk,  with  a  fine  cambric  hand- 
kerchief about  her  throat,  and  a  paler  silk  kerchief 
pinned  away  from  the  neck  on  the  shoulders,  much  as 
Friends  wear  them  still.  A  frail  pretence  of  a  cap 
there  was  also,  and  wicked  double  tints  of  hair  the 
color  of  chestnuts  and  dead  leaves  and  buttonwood 
bark  and  such  other  pretty  uncertain  tints  as  have 
stored  away  a  wealth  of  summer  sun.  Now  and  then 
she  was  up  on  tiptoe  to  pluck  a  rose  or  break  off  a 
dead  stem,  and  then  the  full  ripe  curves  of  her  figure 
were  charming  to  see.  And  so,  like  a  gray  butterfly, 
she  flitted  round  the  garden-wall,  and  presently,  quite 
in  a  natural  way,  came  upon  me  demurely  reading. 

"  Thee  should  be  up  and  away  to  thy  business, 
friend  loiterer,"  she  said. 

"  I  think  I  shall  stay  at  home  this  afternoon,"  I 
answered,  giving  no  reason. 

I  saw  she  looked  troubled,  but  in  a  moment  she 
added,  "  Not  if  I  wanted  thee  to  do  an  errand  for  me 
in  Front  Street." 

"  I  have  a  bone  in  my  foot,"  said  I,  recalling  one 
of  our  boy  excuses  for  laziness. 


246  THEE   AND   YOU 

"But  I  would  pay  thee  with  a  rose  and  some 
thanks,"  she  returned,  laughing. 

"  No  doubt  that  would  pay  some  folks,  but  I  am 
not  to  be  bribed.  If  I  were  older  it  might  answer ; 
but  as  I  am  only  a  boy,  I  may  tell  you  how  pretty 
you  look  among  the  roses.  And  I  think  you  are 
dressed  for  company  this  afternoon." 

"Thee  is  a  very  saucy  lad,"  she  replied,  half 
troubled,  half  smiling,  "  and — and — I  must  tell  thee, 
I  suppose,  that  I  am  looking  for  a  friend  to  come 
on  a  business  of  mine,  and  I  shall  like  thee  better 
if  thee  will  go  away  to-day,  because " 

"  Because  why  ?"  I  said. 

"  Because  I  ask  thee  to  go." 

At  this  moment,  as  I  rose  to  obey  her,  laughing 
and  saying,  "  But  will  you  not  tell  me  his  name  ?" 
Schmidt  appeared  in  the  window. 

"  Ah  !"  said  he,  smiling  his  pleased,  quiet  smile, 
which  rarely  grew  into  noisy  mirth, "  we  masquerade 
of  this  pleasant  afternoon  as  a  queen  of  pearls.  You 
would  have  lacked  some  one  to  admire  you  were  I 
not  come  back  so  good  luckily  now." 

Priscilla  blushed,  but  said  quickly,  "  This  lazy  boy 
has  been  saying  much  the  same  things.  Ah !"  and 
she  looked  worried  of  a  sudden  as  the  knocker 
sounded.  "  There !"  she  exclaimed,  "  some  one  is 
coming  to  see  me — on  business.  Please  to  leave  me 
the  parlor." 

"  Ah,  well !"  said  Schmidt,  smiling,  "  we  will  go ;" 
and  he  turned  to  enter  the  house. 

"  But  not  that  way,"  she  said  hastily.  "  I— I  am 
in  trouble :  I  do  not  want  you  to  see —  I  mean — 


THEE  AND   YOU  247 

please  to  go  out  by  the  garden-gate :  I  will  explain 
another  time." 

Schmidt  looked  surprised,  but,  taking  my  arm,  went 
without  more  words  down  the  garden,  saying  in  my 
ear,  in  his  queer  jerky  way,  "  Hast  thou  ever  seen 
what  a  smear  the  slimy  slug  will  make  on  the  rose- 
leaf?" 

I  said,  "  I  do  not  understand." 

"  But  God  does,  my  lad ;  and  when  thy  rose  comes, 
pray  that  there  be  no  vile  slugs  afoot." 

From  that  evening  we  all  noticed  a  sad  change  in 
Priscilla.  The  gay  sallies  and  coquetry  which  had 
defied  all  bonds  were  gone,  and  she  went  about  her 
needed  household  work  silent,  preoccupied,  and  pale. 
The  greatest  charm  of  this  woman  was  in  her  pretty 
little  revolts  against  Quaker  ways,  and  her  endless 
sympathy  with  everybody's  tastes  and  pursuits  ;  but 
now  she  was  utterly  changed,  u^ntil  all  of  us  who  loved 
her,  as  friend  or  as  more  than  friend,  began  to  notice 
her  sadness  and  to  question  among  ourselves  as  to 
its  cause. 

It  soon  grew  to  be  known  among  us  that  in  the 
afternoons  Priscilla  had  meetings  at  home  with  a 
stranger,  and  we  observed  also  that  Wholesome  had 
become  silent  and  abstracted.  This  was  a  source 
of  some  amusement  to  our  little  company  of  India 
clerks  and  supercargoes,  who  laid  it  to  the  fact  that 
Wholesome's  sad  conduct  having  been  brought  to 
the  consideration  of  the  monthly  meeting,  the  over- 
seers had  waited  upon  him  and  wasted  much  time  in 
fruitless  admonitions,  the  ex-captain  proving  quite 
unable  to  see  that  he  had  acted  otherwise  than  be- 


248  THEE  AND   YOU 

came  a  God-fearing  man.  I  suspect  this  treason  to 
the  creed  of  Friends  sat  easy  on  him,  and  graver  by 
far  were  the  other  questions  which  beset  him  on 
every  side. 

At  last,  one  afternoon  early  in  October,  Wholesome 
had  started  a  little  late  for  the  counting-house,  when, 
as  we  passed  down  Arch  Street  near  Fifth,  he  suddenly 
stopped  and  said,  "  I  must  go  back.  This  thing  has 
gone  on  long  enough.  A  man  must  put  his  hand  in 
the  business." 

"  What  is  it  ?"  said  I,  surprised  at  the  sternness  of 
his  manner. 

"  Do  you  see  that  person  ?"  he  replied,  pointing  to 
a  fashionably-dressed  gentleman  on  the  far  side  of 
the  way,  going  up  the  street  with  a  certain  leisurely 
swagger.  It  was  the  man  he  had  struck  on  the 
wharf,  and  whom  I  had  seen  in  the  market-place. 

I  said,  "  Yes,  I  see  him.  What  do  you  mean  to 
do?" 

"  No  matter.  I  am  going  home :  I  have  stood  this 
long  enough." 

"  But  what  do  you  mean  to  do  ?" 

"  Kill  him,"  said  Wholesome,  quietly. 

I  was  at  once  shocked,  alarmed,  and  a  little  amused, 
it  seemed  so  incongruous  a  threat  from  a  man  in  drab 
and  broad-brim.  But  I  had  the  sense  to  try  to  dis- 
suade him  from  returning  as  we  stood  under  the 
lindens,  he  cool  and  quiet,  I  anxious  and  troubled, 
as  any  man  so  young  would  have  been.  At  last  he 
broke  away,  saying,  "  I  am  going  home.  You  need 
not  come.  I  do  not  want  you." 

"  If  you  go  back,"  I  said,  "  I  go  also." 


THEE   AND    YOU  249 

"  As  you  please,"  he  returned  ;  and  we  went  swiftly 
homeward,  without  a  word  on  either  side. 

Since  then  I  have  seen  on  the  stage  many  and 
curious  scenes,  but  none  more  dramatic  than  that  on 
which  the  curtain  rose  at  four  o'clock  on  this  pleas- 
ant October  evening. 

Wholesome,  pale,  cold-visaged,  handsome,  opened 
the  door  as  if  his  being  there  were  a  matter  of  course, 
and  walked  into  the  back  parlor.  Between  the  win- 
dows, as  usual,  sat  the  older  dame,  of  no  more  mortal 
consequence  than  a  clock.  On  the  window-step  we 
saw  Priscilla,  and  as  we  passed  out  of  the  nearer 
window  into  the  garden,  I  observed  our  dark-visaged 
friend  leaning  against  the  window-jamb  and  talking 
earnestly  to  her. 

She  rose  up,  a  little  flurried  and  anxious,  saying, 
"  Perhaps  thee  remembers  John  Oldmixon,  Richard  ? 
And  these  are  Richard  Wholesome  and  a  new  friend, 
Henry  Shelburne." 

As  she  spoke  she  scanned  furtively  and  with  a 
certain  uneasiness  the  two  strongly-contrasted  faces. 
Neither  man  put  out  his  hand,  but  Wholesome  said, 
"  Yes,  I  remember  him,  and  well  enough.  He  has 
not  changed,  I  think ;"  and  as  he  ended,  his  glance 
rose  to  meet  the  darker  eyes  of  his  foe.  If  will  to 
hurt  had  been  power  to  slay  with  the  look  which 
followed  this  silent  challenge,  there  would  have  been 
a  dead  man  at  Priscilla's  feet.  John  Oldmixon  must 
have  been  well  used  to  the  eye  of  hate. 

"  Nay,"  he  said,  "  we  have  shifted  parts  like  men 
in  a  play  I  once  saw.  I  went  away  a  Quaker,  and 
am  come  back  a  man  of  the  world :  you  went  away 


250  THEE  AND   YOU 

a  gay  midshipman,  and  here  you  are  a  Friend  in 
drab." 

"  Yes,  a  Friend,"  said  Priscilla,  quickly,  lifting  her 
eyes  to  Wholesome's  with  mute  pleading  in  their 
fulness. 

"  I  suppose,"  said  I,  desirous  to  turn  the  talk  from 
what  seemed  to  me  dangerous  ground, — "  I  suppose 
there  is  no  rule  about  Friends'  dress,  is  there  ?  Who 
sets  the  fashions  for  Friends  ?" 

"There  are  none,"  she  said,  smiling.  "Like  the 
flowers  of  the  field  and  the  trees,  our  dress  is  ever 
the  same." 

"  Ah,"  said  Wholesome,  who  was  getting  his  pas- 
sion well  in  hand,  "  I  think  thee  will  see  some  new 
fall  patterns  in  the  leaves  overhead,  Priscilla.  Thee 
has  given  us  a  weak  example  for  Friends." 

"It  has  little  beauty,"  said  Oldmixon,  "this  Friends' 
dress,  but  it  may  have  its  use,  for  all  that.  For  in- 
stance, no  one  would  insult  or  strike  a  man  in  drab, 
however  great  the  provocation  he  might  give.  It  is 
as  good  as  chain-armor." 

"  Why  not  ?"  replied  Wholesome,  flushing.  "  A 
man  may  be  a  man,  whatever  his  garb,  and  I,  for  one, 
should  feel  as  free  to  chastise  a  scoundrel  to-day  as 
ten  years  ago,  and  as  ready  to  answer  him." 

"  Oh,  Richard !    Richard !   thee  forgets !" 

"  True,"  he  said,  "  I  did.  I  forgot  you.  Pardon 
me!" 

"  It  is  so  easy  to  brag  in  drab,"  returned  Oldmixon. 
"  That's  another  of  its  uses.  But  that  concerns  no 
one  here.  Shall  I  see  you  to-morrow,  Priscilla  ?" 

The  last  insult  quieted  Wholesome,  as  such  things 


THEE   AND   YOU  251 

do  quiet  some  men.  He  made  no  answer,  but  smiled 
and  went  away  down  the  garden  whistling, — a  thing 
I  had  never  heard  him  do  before, — while  Priscilla 
said  in  a  half  whisper,  "  No,  not  to-morrow.  How 
can  thee  find  it  pleasing  to  annoy  my  friends?  Does 
thee  think  that  a  thing  I  should  like  ?" 

"  He  is  not  my  friend,"  replied  the  man,  brutally, 
and  losing  his  temper  as  easily  with  the  woman  as 
he  had  kept  it  with  the  man.  "  Folks  who  masquer- 
ade in  Quaker  clothes  need  to  be  taught  lessons 
sometimes." 

"Thee  forgets  thyself,"  said  Priscilla.  "Think  a 
little,  and  take  back  thee  words." 

"  Not  I,"  said  he,  sneeringly.  "  A  fellow  like  that 
wants  a  teacher  at  times." 

Priscilla  was  a  woman,  and  the  man  thus  jeered  at 
was  out  of  earshot,  and  she  loved  him  ;  so  for  once 
her  creed  and  temper  alike  failed  her,  and  she  said 
proudly,  "  I  hear  it  is  thee  rather  that  has  been  to 
school  to  him,  and  did  not  like  thee  lesson." 

"  By  Heaven  !"  said  he,  angrily,  "  you  are  no  better 
Quaker  than  he !  I  hope  my  wife  will  have  better 
manners."  He  flushed  with  shame  and  with  wrath 
at  thus  coming  to  learn  that  Priscilla  knew  of  his 
humiliation.  "  Good-by !"  he  said,  and  turned  to 
leave. 

But  Priscilla  was  herself  again.  "  I  beg  of  thee  do 
not  go  in  anger,"  she  said.  "  I  was  wrong :  pardon 
me!" 

"Not  I,"  he  returned.  "Think  a  little  next  time 
before  you  speak." 

"John !"  she  said,  reproachfully,  but  he  was  gone. 


252  THEE   AND   YOU 

As  he  went  I  saw  Wholesome  pass  quietly  out  of 
the  garden-gate,  and  surmising  that  he  had  gone  to 
meet  Oldmixon,  and  not  knowing  what  might  come 
of  it,  I  made  some  excuse,  and  leaving  Priscilla  pale 
and  shaken,  I  followed  by  the  front  door. 

I  was  right.  As  Oldmixon  crossed  Second  Street, 
I  walking  behind  him,  Wholesome  came  from  a 
side  lane  and  touched  him  on  the  shoulder.  There 
was  no  woman  now,  and  both  men  came  out  in  their 
true  colors. 

Oldmixon  paused.  He  looked  uneasy,  and,  I 
thought,  scared.  "  What  do  you  want  ?"  he  said. 

Wholesome  turned  to  me :  "  This  is  no  business 
of  yours  :  leave  us,  Shelburne." 

"  Not  now,"  I  said. 

"  Well,  as  you  please ;  but  step  out  of  earshot.  I 
have  something  to  say  to  this  man  which  concerns 
only  him  and  me." 

Upon  this  I  walked  away,  but  as  their  voices  rose 
I  caught  enough  to  surprise  me. 

Wholesome  spoke  to  him  quietly  for  several  min- 
utes. Then  Oldmixon  replied  aloud,  "  And  if  I  say 
no?" 

"  Then,"  said  Wholesome,  also  raising  his  voice, 
"I  will  tell  her  all." 

"  And  what  good  will  it  do  ?"  answered  the  other, 
angrily.  "  Do  you  think  I  will  release  her  ?  and  do 
you  think  she  will  lie  while  I  carry  this  ?"  and  he 
touched  his  breast-pocket.  "  She  may  never  marry 
me,  but  you,  at  least,  will  be  no  better  off!  It  will 
only  be  said  you  told  a  pretty  story,  thinking  to 
compass  your  own  ends." 


THEE   AND   YOU  253 

Almost  without  knowing  it  I  drew  nearer,  unnoted 
by  the  two  angry  men. 

"  Yet  I  will  do  it,"  said  Wholesome. 

"  You  little  know  her :  tell  her  and  try  it,"  said  the 
other. 

Wholesome  paused.  Then  he  said,  "  I  believe  you 
are  right,  or  let  us  suppose  you  so.  What  is  to  stop 
me  from  delivering  you  to  justice  to-morrow, — to- 
day?" 

The  other  smiled  :  "  Just  because,  if  you  feel  sure 
this  woman  will  marry  me,  you  love  her  too  well  to 
damn  her  husband  quite  utterly." 

Wholesome  laughed  hoarsely,  and  said,  "  Don't 
count  on  my  goodness  in  that  kind  of  fashion.  By 
Heaven !  you  have  been  nearer  death  within  this  last 
week  or  two  than  you  dream  of;  and  I  should  no 
more  think  twice  about  the  lesser  business  of  putting 
you  out  of  the  way  of  soiling  better  lives  than  about 
crushing  a  cockroach." 

Oldmixon  looked  at  him  keenly,  and  no  doubt 
made  the  reflection  that  had  he  meant  to  act  he 
would  have  done  so  without  warning.  His  face  lit 
up  as  if  he  were  about  to  speak.  Then  he  changed 
his  purpose,  was  silent  a  moment,  and  said,  "  Richard 
Wholesome,  there  has  been  enough  bad  blood  be- 
tween me  and  you  already.  Let  it  stop  here.  This 
woman  is  out  of  your  reach,  and  always  will  be  while 
I  live.  For  her  sake  let  us  be  at  peace." 

"  Peace !"  said  Wholesome.  "  You  would  not  be- 
lieve it  if  I  were  to  say  that  if  she  loved  you,  and 
you  were  any  way  worth  loving,  I  would  help  you 
to  marry  her  and  go  away  not  quite  unhappy.  But 


254  THEE   AND   YOU 

now," — and  his  scorn  grew  uncontrollable, — "  now,  to 
talk  of  peace, — peace  with  a  cur,  with  a  creature  who 
holds  a  pure  woman  by  a  girl's  promise  which  he 
treats  as  a  business  contract, — peace  with  a  man  who 
trades  on  a  woman's  hope  that  she  can  drag  him  out 
of  the  mire  of  his  vices  !  I  wonder  at  my  own  self- 
restraint,"  he  added,  as  the  other  fell  back  a  step 
before  his  angry  advance. 

"  Will  you  hear  me  ?"  said  Oldmixon. 

"Hear  you?  No,"  said  Wholesome.  "When 
you  hear  of  me  again,  it  will  be  through  the  sheriff." 

"  Ah,  is  it  so  really  ?"  returned  the  other.  "  Have 
your  way,  then,  and  see  what  will  come  of  it ;"  and 
so  saying,  he  turned  and  went  away. 

Wholesome  stood  an  instant,  and  then,  looking 
up,  said  to  me,  "  You  here  yet?  I  suppose  you  have 
heard  enough  to  trouble  you.  Do  me  the  kindness 
not  to  mention  it.  I  did  not  mean  the  talk  should 
have  been  a  long  one,  and  it  had  better  have  been 
elsewhere,  but  a  man  is  not  always  his  own  master." 

This  I  thought  myself,  but  the  upper  streets  of 
Philadelphia  were  in  that  day  half  country,  the  way- 
farers scarce,  save  on  the  main  highways.  I  said  to 
him  that  I  had  heard  a  good  deal  of  what  was  said, 
but  did  not  fully  understand  it. 

"  No  need  to,"  he  replied.     "  Forget  it,  my  lad." 

That  evening  late,  as  we  sat  at  our  window  in  the 
second  story,  Schmidt  and  I,  we  heard  voices  in  the 
garden  just  below  us,  at  first  low,  then  louder. 

"  It  is  Priscilla  and  Wholesome,  not  yet  gone  away 
to  sleep,"  said  Schmidt.  "  What  will  he  ?  There  is 


THEE   AND   YOU  255 

a  something  which  ever  she  asks  and  ever  he  will 
not.  And  if  she  would  it  ask  of  the  other,  which  is 
me,  there  would  be  ways  to  do  it,  I  warrant  you,  and 
that  quickly.  Canst  hear,  my  boy  ?" 

"  Hear  ?"  said  I  aloud,  so  as  to  disturb  the  couple 
below,  who,  however,  were  too  intent  to  heed  my 
warning.  "  Hear  ?  What  business  have  I  with 
other  people's  affairs?"  and  so  I  coughed  again 
lustily. 

"  Foolish  imp !  why  shall  you  spoil  my  drama  ?" 
said  Schmidt  "  Never  have  you  paid  as  I  have  to 
get  an  interest  in  them  which  play ;  and  think  what 
a  rare  piece  you  spoil,  and  how  pretty,  too,  with  this 
jealous  lover  on  the  balcony  and  the  drab  Romeo 
and  Juliet  in  the  moonshine  beneath !  See !  what  is 
it  they  speak  ?  He  says,  '  Yes,  you  shall  have  your 
way.'  And  about  what,  my  lord  ?  Would  you  mind 
if  that  I  go  below  to  hear  ?" 

"  Now  that,"  I  said,  "  you  shall  not  do." 

"  And  wherefore  should  I  tarry  ?"  he  returned. 
"  Are  my  motives  as  the  crystal  to  be  seen  through  ? 
And  if  I  listen  for  ill,  that  is  ill ;  and  if  I  go  to  listen 
for  good " 

"  Good  or  ill,"  said  I,  "  friend  Schmidt,  we  do  not 
do  such  things  here." 

"  And  there  is  to  myself  wonderment  that  it  is  so," 
he  returned ;  "  and  as  it  is  my  conscience  that  will 
bleed,  I  go." 

"Not  so,"  said  I,  laughing,  and  began  to  hail 
Wholesome  in  the  garden,  and  to  ask  him  to  throw 
me  a  cheroot. 

As  I  called  out  the  voices  ceased,  and  Schmidt, 


256  THEE   AND   YOU 

quite  furious,  exclaimed,  "There  is  not  so  much  of 
amusing  in  the  life  of  gray  and  drab  here  as  that  an 
interest  shall  be  taken  out  of  it,  and  nevermore  be 
missed.  The  thing  you  have  done  is  unhuman." 

Meanwhile,  Wholesome  had  thrown  up  to  me  his 
cigar-case,  and  Priscilla  had  flitted  into  the  house  like 
a  misty  ghost  through  the  moonlight. 

The  little  I  had  heard  that  night,  and  what  Schmidt 
had  added  as  comment,  and  what  Wholesome  had 
said  to  Oldmixon,  could  not  fail,  of  course,  to  make 
clear  to  me  that  here  was  a  mystery  which  seemed 
to  be  growing  deeper. 

Meanwhile,  our  daily  work  went  on,  while  Mis- 
tress White  grew  paler  than  her  white  kerchief,  and 
went  about  her  household  tasks  watched  by  loving 
and  tender  eyes.  As  I  was  a  sort  of  extra  clerk  at 
our  counting-house  and  received  no  salary,  I  went 
and  came  with  more  liberty  than  the  rest ;  whence  it 
chanced  that  sometimes  I  was  at  home  when  John 
Oldmixon  paid  his  frequent  afternoon  visits.  I  liked 
the  man  little,  and  since  his  meeting  with  Wholesome 
less  than  ever.  Once  or  twice  I  found  Priscilla  crying 
after  he  had  gone ;  and  this  so  moved  me  that  I  made 
up  my  mind  to  tell  Schmidt,  partly  because  I  was 
curious,  and  partly  because,  with  a  boy's  lack  of 
knowledge  of  the  perplexities  of  life,  I  hoped  to  find 
or  hear  of  some  escape  for  her.  I  was  saved  this 
need  by  an  event  which  chanced  a  day  or  two  later. 

I  came  home  early  in  the  afternoon  with  Schmidt 
to  get  our  rough  clothes,  as  we  meant  to  be  gone  a 
day  or  two  down  the  river  in  his  boat,  and  to  sleep 
the  first  night  at  Chester  or  Marcus  Hook.  As  we 


THEE   AND   YOU  257 

entered  the  parlor  I  heard  a  harsh  voice  saying 
roughly,  "  I  will  wait  no  longer.  Be  as  good  as  your 
written  pledge,  or  let  me  go  and  drift  to  the  devil,  as 
I  shall.  Only  one  person  can  save  me." 

Schmidt  seized  my  arm  and  held  me  back  at  the 
door  a  moment,  and  I  heard  Priscilla  say,  "  Can  thee 
fail  to  see  how  ill  I  grow  ?  Will  thee  not  wait  but  a 
little  while,  John, — only  a  little  ?  Richard  has  prom- 
ised me  thee  shall  take  no  hurt:  thee  knows  he  would 
not  lie." 

All  this  while,  at  brief  intervals,  like  a  scared  bird 
who  sees  near  her  nest  a  serpent,  the  old  lady  from 
her  seat  between  the  windows  kept  sounding  her  one 
note :  "  Has  thee  a  four-leaved  clover  ?"  in  a  voice 
shrill  and  feeble. 

Meanwhile,  I  had  turned  away  as  Oldmixon  replied 
to  Priscilla,  "  Not  a  week  longer, — not  a  week  !  You 
are  lying  to  me  in  your  heart,  and  you  only  just  dare 
not  lie  with  your  lips." 

This  brutal  speech  was  too  much  for  Schmidt. 
"  The  man,"  he  said,  "  which  can  this  suffer  should 
no  more  breathe  the  air  of  God ;"  and  so  saying  went 
in  abruptly. 

As  he  entered,  I  being  behind  him,  John  Old- 
mixon, confused  and  wrathful,  let  go  his  rough  hold 
on  Priscilla's  wrists  and  rose  up,  seeking  to  compose 
his  disturbed  features.  The  German  walked  straight 
up  to  him.  "  Not  ever  do  we  abuse  women  in  this 
house,"  he  said.  "  Go  straightways  out  of  it." 

Oldmixon  laughed.  "How  is  this,  'Cilia?"  he 
said. 

"  What  is  called  a  gentleman,"  said  Schmidt,  "  he 


258  THEE   AND   YOU 

is  very  mild  to  women.  Talk  your  great  talk  to  me 
who  am  a  man :  what  need  to  shelter  by  a  petticoat." 

By  this  time  Priscilla  was  her  quiet  self.  "  Hush, 
John!"  she  said.  "You  will  both  remember  my 
aged  mother." 

"  Has  thee  a  four-leaved  clover  ?"  said  the  old 
dame. 

"  There  is  of  you  but  a  child,"  returned  Schmidt 
to  Priscilla  softly :  "  the  ways  of  foul  things  like  this 
one  you  do  not  know.  Leave  us  but  a  moment,  and 
never  shall  he  more  trouble  thy  sweetness." 

Oldmixon's  face  grew  gray  with  rage.  "  Insolent 
little  Dutchman!"  he  said. 

"  Hush !"  again  broke  in  Priscilla.  "  Speak  not 
thus;"  and  turning  to  Schmidt,  "This  is  my  husband 
that  shall  be.  How  we  may  differ  is  for  us  alone. 
I  pray  thee  to  go  away,  and  be  angry  no  more  for 
the  cross  that  is  to  be  borne  by  me  with  what  patience 
the  Lord  shall  help  me  to  get." 

"  He  does  not  help  me  to  any  patience,"  said 
Schmidt,  "  seeing  these  things ;  but  if  it  be  as  you 
say,  I  go ;  but  as  for  this  man " 

"  Well  ?"  said  Oldmixon. 

"  Come  away,  Schmidt,"  I  exclaimed.  "  This  is  no 
business  of  yours.  Come !" 

"  Yes,  go,"  said  Priscilla,  anxiously,  standing  like 
an  angel  of  peace  between  the  two  angry  men. 

"  Let  it  then  be  so,"  said  Schmidt,  "  for  now." 

"  And  for  always,"  said  she. 

And  we  turned  and  went  without  more  words. 

Another  week  went  by,  when  one  morning  Schmidt 
proposed  to  me  that  we  should  walk  up  the  Schuyl- 


THEE   AND   YOU  259 

kill  to  the  Falls ;  and  as  I  was  always  glad  of  his 
company,  we  set  out  after  our  one-o'clock  dinner. 
Where  we  walked  by  ponds  and  green  fields  and 
gardens  the  great  city  has  come  and  left  no  spot  un- 
filled ;  but  now,  as  then,  above  Fairmount  the  river 
rolled  broad  between  grassy  hills  and  bold  rocky 
points.  We  hailed  a  boatman  just  below  Callowhill 
Street,  and  being  set  on  the  far  side  went  away  north- 
ward along  the  river-marge.  It  was  lovely  then :  it 
is  so  to-day.  We  walked  on,  leaving  above  us  on 
the  bank  the  sloping  lawns  of  Solitude,  Sweetbrier's, 
Eaglesfield,  and  at  last  Belmont,  and,  now  by  the 
water-side  and  now  under  the  overhanging  catalpas 
of  the  "  River  Road,"  came  at  last  to  the  "  Falls." 
In  those  days  a  vast  rock  extended  two-thirds  of  the 
way  across  from  the  west  side,  and  so  dammed  up 
the  waters  that  they  broke  in  foam  through  the  nar- 
row gap  on  the  east,  and  fell  noisily  about  six  feet 
in  a  hundred  and  fifty  yards.  The  rock,  I  recall  well, 
was  full  of  potholes,  and  there  was  one  known  from 
its  shape  as  Devil  Foot.  Of  all  this  there  is  to-day 
nothing  left,  the  dam  at  Fairmount  having  hidden  it 
under  water,  but  in  those  times  the  view  from  the 
rock  took  in  a  lovely  sweep  of  river  down  to  Peter's 
Island  and  far  beyond  it. 

That  was  a  day  to  remember,  and  it  brought  out 
all  that  was  most  curious  and  quaint  and  sincere  in 
my  German  friend.  It  was  mid-October,  and  a  haze 
which  was  gray  or  gold  as  shade  or  sun  prevailed  lay 
moveless  everywhere. 

Said  Schmidt  to  me,  basking  on  the  rock,  "  Have 
you  learned  yet  to  look  with  curiousness  at  this 


260  THEE   AND   YOU 

pretty  Nature  which  for  us  dresses  with  nice  changes 
all  the  days  ?" 

His  speech  often  puzzled  me,  and  I  said  as  much 
this  time. 

"  It  is  my  bad  English  which  I  have  when  I  try 
not  to  talk  my  Spenser  or  my  Shakespeare,  to  which 
I  went  to  school.  It  was  not  a  mystery  I  meant  I 
would  but  this  say,  that  it  is  gainful  of  what  is  most 
sweet  in  living  to  have  got  that  wise  nearness  of  love 
to  Nature.  Well !  and  I  am  not  yet  understood  ? 
So  let  it  be.  When  a  music  which  pleases  you  is 
heard,  is  it  that  it  fills  up  full  your  throat  some  way 
and  overflows  your  eyes  ?" 

I  was  ever  sensitive  to  harmony,  and  could  follow 
him  now.  I  said,  "  Yes,  there  are  songs  which  are 
most  sweet  to  me, — which  so  move  me  that  I  scarce 
hear  them  willingly." 

"  Thus,"  he  said,  "  I  am  stirred  by  the  great  orches- 
tra of  color  which  is  here,  but  music  I  know  not. 
How  strange  is  that !  And  if,"  he  said,  "  you  were 
to  shut  your  eyes,  what  is  it  in  this  loveliness  would 
stay  with  you  ?" 

"  Oh,  but,"  said  I,  "  no  one  thing  makes  it  lovely. 
It  is  not  only  color,  but  sounds,  like  this  rush  of 
water  at  our  feet." 

"  It  is  as  you  say,"  replied  Schmidt.  "  And  what 
a  sweet-tempered  day,  with  a  gray  haziness  and  a  not 
unkindly  coolness  to  the  air  where  the  sun  is  not !" 

"  A  day  like  Priscilla,"  I  said,  demurely. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  "  that  was  well  said, — like  Pris- 
cilla. How  lovely  sad  that  is,"  he  went  on,  "  to  see 
the  leaves  shiver  in  the  wind  and  rain  all  reds  and 


THEE   AND    YOU  26l 

golds  through  the  air !  And  do  you  see  this  picture 
behind  us,  where  is  that  great  green  fir,  and  around 
it  to  the  top,  like  a  flame,  the  scarlet  of  your  Virginia 
creeper  ?  And  below  these  firs  on  the  ground  is  a 
carpet, — a  carpet  all  colors  near,  and  gray  pinks  to 
us  far  away ;  and  under  the  maples  what  you  call, — 
ach  !  the  wild  words  which  fail  me, — fine  broken-up 
gold  and  red  bits.  It  is  what  you  call  stippled,  I 
mean." 

"  And  the  curled  leaves  afloat,"  I  said, "  how  pretty 
they  are." 

"And  the  brown  sedges,"  he  added,  "and  the 
crumpled  brown  ferns,  and  over  them  the  great 
splendid  masses  of  color,  which  do  laugh  at  a 
painter !" 

Then  we  were  silent  a  while,  and  the  blue  smoke 
went  up  in  spirals  from  Schmidt's  meerschaum.  At 
last  he  said,  in  his  odd,  abrupt  way,  "  To  talk  helps 
to  think.  This  is  a  strange  coil  we  have  about  our 
good  Priscilla.  I  have  been  going  it  over  in  my  own 
mind." 

"  I  understand  it  so  little,"  said  I,  "  that  I  am  un- 
able to  help  you.  Can  you  tell  me  more  of  it  than 
I  know  already?" 

"  And  why  not  ?"  said  Schmidt,  frankly.  "  This  is 
it " 

"  But  stop !"  said  I.  "  If  it  involves  other  folks' 
secrets,  I  do  not  want  to  know  it." 

"  That  is  my  business,"  returned  Schmidt,  delib- 
erately filling  his  pipe.  "  What  I  do  I  settle  with 
my  own  conscience  if  I  have  any ;  which  I  know  not 
clearly.  How  amazing  some  day  to  be  called  to  an 


262  THEE   AND   YOU 

account  for  it,  and  then  to  put  hands  in  the  moral 
pockets  and  say,  '  Where  is  it  ?'  Let  me  talk  my 
dark  thoughts  out  to  daylight." 

"  Well,  then,"  I  said,  laughing,  "  go  on." 

"  And  first  of  Oldmixon.  There  is,  I  have  come 
to  know,  a  black  history  of  this  man  in  the  war. 
Our  good  Wholesome  was  in  the  way  to  help  him 
with  money,  so  much  that  to  pay  he  could  not.  Then 
is  there  a  not  nice  story  of  a  shipwreck,  and  boats 
too  full,  and  women  which  he  would  throw  overboard 
or  not  take  in  from  a  sinking  ship,  and  sharp  words 
and  a  quarrel  with  Wholesome,  and  these  followed 
by  a  stab  in  the  darkness,  and  a  good  man  over  in  a 
raging  sea  and  no  more  seen  of  men." 

"  Good  Heavens !"  said  I :  "do  you  mean  he 
stabbed  Wholesome  ?" 

"  It  is  so,"  he  replied. 

"  And  then  ?"  said  I. 

"  Next,"  he  said,  "  is  some  foul  horror  of  women 
shrieking  lonely  on  a  vessel's  deck  over  which  go  the 
wailing  seas.  But  this  Wholesome  is  by  a  miracle  afloat 
for  hours  on  a  spar,  and  saved  by  a  passing  ship." 

"  But  knowing  all  this,"  I  said,  "  why  does  he  not 
tell  it  and  drive  the  wretch  away  ?" 

"  Because,"  returned  Schmidt,  "  there  is  another 
side, — of  a  little  Quaker  girl,  the  ward  of  Nicholas 
Oldmixon,  who  is  on  a  time  before  this  saved  from 
great  peril  of  fear  more  than  of  death  by  this  man, 
John  Oldmixon,  and  then  such  love  between  them 
as  may  be  betwixt  a  fair  woman  and  a  foul  man." 

"  But,"  said  I,  "this  does  not  seem  enough  to  make 
our  present  tangle." 


THEE   AND   YOU  263 

"  Assuredly  never,"  he  went  on.  "  But  also  the 
man  takes  to  worse  ways,  and  to  the  woman's  girl- 
love  comes  later  her  belief  that  here  is  a  soul  to  save. 
And,  come  what  will,  she,  when  he  has  fled  away, 
writes  letters  in  which  she  makes  foolish  promise  to 
marry  him  when  he  comes  back." 

"  But  will  she  keep  such  an  absurd  promise  ?" 
I  said. 

"  Is  she  a  woman  ?"  he  answered.  "  There  is  a 
creature  mingled  of  angel  and  fool  which  will  do  this 
thing,  and  let  no  man  stop  her." 

"  But,"  I  added,  "  you  have  not  told  me  why 
Wholesome  does  not  go  to  the  recorder  and  tell  his 
story,  and  have  the  scoundrel  arrested." 

"  Ah,  true !"  he  said.  "  A  day  more  and  the  thing 
would  have  been ;  but  the  beast,  well  warned  by  our 
foolish  Quaker  war-man,  goes  swiftly  to  Priscilla  and 
is  penitent  over  again,  and  will  she  save  him  ?" 

"  And  then  ?"  said  I. 

"  This  Quaker  woman  turns  my  man  Wholesome 
her  finger  around,  and  says,  'God  has  set  me  the 
task  to  marry  this  man,  John  Oldmixon,  and  save 
his  soul  alive,' — whatever  that  may  mean, — and  so 
she  has  Wholesome's  good  promise  that  he  will  leave 
the  wretch  to  her  and  his  conscience  forever." 

"  And  so  it  ends,"  said  I,  "  and  Priscilla  is  a  dead 
woman.  If  I  were  Wholesome,  I  would  save  her 
despite  herself,  even  if  she  never  married  me." 

"  But  you  are  not  Richard  Wholesome,"  he  re- 
turned. "  There  is  half  of  him  Quaker  and  half  a 
brave  gentleman,  and  all  of  him  the  bond-slave  of  a 
woman's  foolish  will." 


264  THEE  AND   YOU 

"  Then  is  it  a  tale  told  ?"  I  said. 

"  Hardly  do  I  know,"  replied  Schmidt,  rising. 
"  There  are  two  ends  to  all  things.  Let  us  go  :  the 
twilight  falls,  and  how  lovely  is  the  golden  light  on 
the  yellow  hickories  yonder !" 

And  so  we  strolled  homeward  lazily,  the  chill 
October  evening  air  growing  damper  and  the  twi- 
light well  upon  us  before  we  reached  the  city. 

Just  as  we  were  come  to  our  own  door,  Schmidt, 
who  had  been  long  silent,  stopped  me  and  said, 
"  There  is  a  thing  I  would  say  to  you  for  lack  of  an 
elder  to  listen.  But  first  make  me  a  promise  that  no 
man's  ear  shall  get  the  value  of  what  I  have  said  to 
you." 

"  I  will  tell  no  one,"  I  answered. 

Then  he  paused :  "  This  more  I  want  of  you.  I  have 
much  weighed  it  before  I  thought  to  put  on  one  so 
young  what  may  come  to  be  a  burden ;  but  also  there 
is  none  else.  Some  time  if  that  I  send  or  write  for 
you  to  follow  me,  do  it  swiftly  as  I  may  direct  Will 
you  ?" 

I  said  yes  with  a  sense  that  it  was  to  one  of  my 
bringing  up  a  little  too  romantic,  and  so  far  absurd ; 
yet  his  tone  was  earnest,  and  even  sad,  and  I  there- 
fore took  care  not  to  smile. 

"  That  is  all,"  he  returned  ;  and  we  went  in. 

All  that  time  is  broken  up  for  me  into  distinct 
scenes  like  a  play,  some  of  them,  as  I  said  before, 
having  the  clearness  of  pictures,  being  like  these  but 
the  scenes  of  a  moment.  The  days  and  hours  be- 
tween are  less  well  defined  in  my  memory.  There  is 
one  of  these  brief  pictures  which  hangs  as  it  were  in 


THEE   AND   YOU  265 

my  mind,  and  which  I  could  wish  that  some  one 
would  paint  for  me. 

The  next  day  was  Sunday,  and  Wholesome,  as  had 
often  chanced  of  late,  did  not  go  to  meeting,  but  after 
breakfast  walked  out  of  the  room  with  a  sombre  face 
and  clouded  brow,  and  went  slowly  up-stairs  to  his 
chambers  in  the  third  story.  In  one  he  slept;  the 
other  was  a  sitting-room,  filled  with  relics  of  his 
many  voyages, — skins  of  wild  beasts,  deer  and  moose 
horns,  pipes  and  the  like, — of  which  I  found  it  pleas- 
ant to  hear  him  chat  I  followed  him  up-stairs,  and 
with  Schmidt  came  to  the  door  of  his  room,  meaning 
to  ask  him  to  walk  with  us.  He  must  have  been 
much  taken  up  with  his  own  thoughts,  for  he  did  not 
hear  us,  and,  the  door  being  ajar,  Schmidt  of  a  sudden 
checked  me  and  pointed  into  the  room.  Against 
the  farther  wall  was  a  tall  mahogany  clock,  such  as 
are  common  in  old  houses  here, — a  rather  stately 
timepiece,  crowned  with  a  carven  cock  over  its  ample 
metal  face.  Below  it,  on  the  floor,  lay  a  large  tiger- 
skin,  upon  which  stood  Wholesome.  The  clock-door 
was  open,  and  he  seemed  to  have  just  taken  from  its 
interior  a  pair  of  rapiers.  One  he  had  set  against  the 
clock,  and  unsheathing  the  other  he  held  the  point 
in  one  hand  and  the  haft  in  the  other,  and  bent  it  as 
if  to  try  its  temper.  I  can  see  the  man  now  in  his 
drab  clothes,  his  curly  hair,  his  look  of  easy,  ample 
strength,  the  tiger-skin  and  the  open  clock.  Then  I 
can  see  him  throw  his  chest  out  and  lunge  twice  or 
thrice  at  the  wall  with  the  lightsome  grace  of  a  prac- 
tised hand. 

Schmidt  stepped  back  on  tiptoe,  whispering,  "  Come 


266  THEE   AND   YOU 

away,"  and  silently  we  went  down  the  staircase,  I 
wondering,  and  he  moody  and  abstracted,  making 
no  reply  to  my  questionings  and  comments. 

At  last  he  said,  "I  walk  not  to-day.  Will  you 
please  me  to  not  forget  what  you  have  promised 
yesterday  ?" 

The  summons  came  soon.  I  was  lying  on  the 
grass  under  the  apricots,  teasing  the  cat  for  the  lack 
of  better  amusement,  that  Sunday  in  the  early  after- 
noon. Across  me  fell  the  shadow  of  Schmidt  coming 
noiseless  over  the  sward.  I  rolled  over  on  my  back, 
laughing  and  tossing  the  angry  cat  about,  knowing 
not  it  was  the  shadow  of  a  tragedy  which  had  fallen 
across  me  at  my  careless  play. 

Schmidt  regarded  me  a  moment  with  a  soft,  grave 
look,  and  then,  dropping  on  the  grass  beside  me,  said, 
"  I  have  before  me  in  the  day  which  goes  a  business 
which  will  not  be  the  play  of  boys ;  but  being,  as  you 
know,  a  man  of  lonely  ways,  there  is  not  one  I  can 
think  to  ask  that  they  go  with  me." 

"  And  why  not  take  me,"  I  said,  "  as  you  meant  to 
do,  I  suppose  ?" 

"  I  would  not  if  I  could  help  it,"  he  returned. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Schmidt,"  said  I,  abruptly,  "  it  is  a  fancy 
you  and  Mr.  Wholesome  have  to  make  a  boy  of  me ; 
but  if  not  forty,  I  am  no  more  a  boy  than  you.  If 
you  want  help  and  I  can  give  it,  I  am  at  your  call. 
If  you  want  to  explain  your  purpose,  I  will  listen.  If 
you  choose  to  hold  your  tongue,  I  am  willing  to  go 
with  you  anywhere  without  question." 

"  That  was  nice-spoken,"  he  said,  quietly,  "  and 
with  good  trust.  There  will  a  woman  love  you  well 


THEE   AND   YOU  267 

some  day  for  the  sweet  honest  ways  of  you.  Come, 
then,  and  wait  for  me  at  the  door  a  moment." 

He  presently  appeared  with  a  long  plaid  cloak  over 
his  shoulders,  the  air  being  shrewd  and  cool,  and 
we  went  away  down  Arch  Street  together. 

At  the  corner  of  High  and  Front  stood  a  building 
with  hipped  roof  and  many  gables,  once  the  London 
Coffee-House,  but  at  the  time  I  speak  of  rather  fallen 
in  its  fortunes  to  be  a  lodging-house  of  no  great 
repute,  but  not  ill  kept,  and  in  the  war  a  great  resort 
of  privateersmen. 

As  we  turned  into  the  bar-room  together,  Schmidt 
said  to  me,  "  You  are  here  only  to  see,  and  to  re- 
member what  you  come  to  see." 

Then  he  exchanged  a  few  words  with  the  landlord, 
like  himself  a  German,  and,  laughing  gayly,  went 
away  up  the  narrow  stairs  to  a  front  room  on  the 
second  story,  where  he  knocked.  I  heard  no  reply, 
but,  at  all  events,  Schmidt  walked  in,  and  as  I  passed 
him  turned,  locked  the  door,  and,  keeping  the  key  in 
his  hand,  went  a  pace  or  two  before  me.  At  the 
table  between  the  windows  sat  John  Oldmixon.  He 
turned  his  head,  and  with  an  oath  too  profane  to 
repeat  threw  down  his  pen,  and  rising  faced  us. 
Schmidt  walked  to  the  table,  and  glancing  at  the 
half-written  letter  which  lay  there,  said,  smiling,  "  You 
write  to  Richard  Wholesome?  Then  am  I  yet  in 
good  time." 

"  For  what  ?"  exclaimed  Oldmixon,  angrily.  "  To 
look  at  a  private  letter  ?  Who  the  devil  asked  you  to 
come  here  ?  Leave  my  room,  or " 

"  Hush  !"  said  Schmidt,  quietly.     "  You  are,  as  I 


268  THEE   AND   YOU 

do  suppose,  a  man  of  the  world,  and  what  is  called  a 
gentleman.  I  have  a  brief  business  with  you,  which 
I  would  not  for  the  sake  of  myself  and  you  should 
be  known." 

"  I  do  not  know,  sir,"  returned  Oldmixon,  "  of  any 
business  you  can  possibly  have  with  me.  Open  that 
door  and  leave  my  room." 

"Ach!  well!"  said  Schmidt.  "Will  you  then 
listen  to  me  ?" 

"  No !"  cried  the  other.  "  No  man  shall  play  this 
kind  of  game  on  me.  Go,  or  I  shall  have  to  make 
you." 

"  It  will  be  well  if  you  shall  hear  me,"  replied 
Schmidt,  quite  master  of  himself. 

"  Then,"  said  the  other,  "  I  shall  open  the  door  by 
force  and  have  you  put  out." 

"  But  to  my  side  there  are  two,"  said  Schmidt,  as 
Oldmixon  advanced. 

On  this  hint  I  stood  against  the  door,  saying, 
"  What  Mr.  Schmidt  wants  I  know  no  more  than 
you,  but  until  you  hear  him  you  do  not  leave  this 
room." 

Oldmixon  looked  from  one  to  the  other,  and  then, 
as  by  a  sudden  resolution,  said,  "  A  deuced  pretty 
business,  indeed !  I  cannot  fight  two.  What  is  it 
you  want?" 

"  Now  you  are  come  into  the  land  of  reason,"  said 
the  German.  "  I  pray  of  you  to  hear  me,  and  with 
tranquilness  to  think." 

"  Go  on,"  said  Oldmixon. 

"  Good !"  returned  Schmidt.  "  Mr.  Wholesome, — 
who  does  well  know  all  of  you,  from  the  one  side  of 


THEE   AND   YOU  269 

you  to  the  other,  what  you  call  through  and  through, 
— he  has  his  cause  why  he  may  not  tell  of  you  and 
send  you  away  or  have  you  put  in  jail." 

"  Nonsense !  what  stuff  is  this  ?"  exclaimed  Old- 
mixon. 

"  Yet  hear,"  said  Schmidt.  "  I  have  put  on  paper, 
which  is  in  my  pocket  here,  a  little  account  of  you 
for  to  be  given  to  a  magistrate.  When  he  comes  to 
see  it  there  arrives  straight  the  constable,  and  he 
touches  you  on  the  shoulder  and  says,  '  You  come 
with  me.' " 

"  Pshaw !"  said  the  other.     "  Is  this  a  theatre  ?" 

"  It  is  a  theatre,"  returned  Schmidt,  "  and  we  are 
the  actors,  and  the  play  is  good.  This  paper  you 
can  have  on  your  own  terms  if  you  are  wise ;  and 
once  it  is  yours,  I  swear  to  you  I  shall  not  ever  in  life 
speak  or  write  of  you  again.  But  if  you  will  not, 
then  when  I  go  from  this,  in  a  time  but  short,  it  shall 
be  in  the  hands  of  the  recorder." 

"  Do  you  take  me  for  an  idiot  ?"  said  the  other. 
"  What  do  I  care  for  your  terms  ?  and  what  are 
you  to  me  ?  Wholesome  will  never  testify  against 
me." 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Schmidt ;  "  and  still  you  will  be 
no  less  a  man  ruined ;  and  here  at  least  there  shall 
be  no  place  for  you,  and  no  woman — ay,  not  the 
lowest — will  look  on  you  with  grace." 

Oldmixon  fell  back  a  pace,  hesitated,  and  said 
hoarsely,  "  What  do  you  want  ?" 

Schmidt  leaned  over  and  said  something  to  him 
which  I  did  not  hear. 

Oldmixon  started.     "  Fight  you  !"  he  said,  with  a 


2/0  THEE   AND   YOU 

sort  of  bewilderment.  "  What  for  ?  We  have  no 
quarrel.  What  utter  nonsense !" 

"  Nonsense  or  not,"  cried  Schmidt,  "  you  fight  or  I 
go ;  and  what  shall  follow  I  have  not  failed  to  tell 
you." 

"  Do  you  suppose,"  said  the  other,  "  I  am  to  be  at 
the  beck  and  call  of  every  foreign  adventurer?  If 
you  come  on  Wholesome's  quarrel,  go  back  and  tell 
him  I  will  meet  him  anywhere  with  any  weapons. 
With  him,  at  least,  I  have  a  score  to  settle." 

"  And  what  score  ?"  returned  Schmidt. 

"  He  has  struck  me,"  said  Oldmixon.  "  I  am  only 
waiting  my  time.  I  have  no  quarrel  with  you." 

"  That  is  a  thing  easy  to  mend,"  said  Schmidt ;  and 
to  my  surprise  and  horror  he  struck  Oldmixon  on 
the  face  with  the  leather  glove  he  held. 

The  other,  wild  with  rage,  hit  out  at  him  fiercely 
as  I  threw  myself  between  them,  and  there  was  a 
moment's  struggle,  when  Schmidt  exclaimed,  step- 
ping back,  "  Will  that  be  enough  ?" 

"  Too  much  !"  cried  the  other,  furiously.  "  You 
shall  have  your  way,  and  your  blood  be  on  your  own 
head,  not  on  mine.  I  take  you,  sir,  to  witness,"  he 
added,  appealing  to  me,  "that  he  provoked  this 
quarrel." 

"  It  is  so,"  said  Schmidt ;  and  turning  to  me,  "  Let 
come  what  shall,  Herr  Shelburne,  you  will  say  it  was 
my  quarrel.  And  now,"  to  Oldmixon,  "  the  terms 
are  but  these ;"  and  he  talked  apart  with  his  foe  a 
few  moments.  There  was  anger  and  dissent  and  in- 
sistance  in  their  words,  but  I  could  not,  and  did  not 
wish  to,  hear  them. 


THEE   AND   YOU  271 

At  last  Schmidt  said  aloud,  "It  is  the  letters 
against  this  paper,  and  Mr.  Shelburne  to  hear  and 
take  notice." 

I  bowed,  somewhat  in  the  dark,  I  confess. 

"  Mr.  Shelburne  has  my  full  confidence,"  said  Old- 
mixon,  saluting  me,  and  now  full  master  of  himself. 
"And  what  time  to-morrow  shall  it  be?"  he  added. 

"To-day,"  returned  Schmidt. 

"  Ah !  as  you  like,"  said  the  other,  with  a  good 
show  of  indifference ;  "  and  the  hour  and  place,  if 
you  please  ?" 

"  To-day,"  said  Schmidt,  "  at  six  o'clock.  There 
are  certain  willows  of  a  clump  which  stand  a  mile 
below  Passyunk  Road  in  the  meadow  on  the  way  to 
League  Island.  Four  there  are  and  one  dead, — on 
the  left.  If  at  that  hour  we  meet  not,  the  word  shall 
to  the  magistrate,  as  I  have  said  it." 

"Never  fear,"  said  Oldmixon;  "I  shall  not  fail 
you.  The  threat  was  little  needed.  Who  is  your 
second.  Mine  will  be " 

"There  will  be  no  second  or  any  to  see,"  said 
Schmidt. 

"  But  this  is  not  a  duel :  it  is  murder  1"  exclaimed 
Oldmixon. 

"We  will  call  no  names,"  replied  the  German. 
"  Will  you  be  there  ?  And  listen  :  if  I  am  not  of  the 
lucky  side,  you  will  take  this  paper  and  your  letters, 
and  so  will  it  end.  That  is  my  bargain,  and  you 
have  much  to  win." 

"  Enough  !"  cried  the  other.  "  I  shall  be  there, — 
ay,  and  ready.  Your  weapons  ?" 

"These,"  said  Schmidt;    and  throwing  back  his 


2/2  THEE   AND    YOU 

cloak,  he  displayed  the  two  rapiers  we  had  seen 
Wholesome  handling. 

"  At  six?" 

"  At  six,"  said  the  other ;  and  with  no  more  words 
we  left  the  room. 

During  this  singular  scene  I  had  held  my  peace, 
but  as  we  reached  the  street  I  said,  "  You  cannot 
really  mean  to  meet  this  man  ?" 

"  But  I  shall,"  he  replied,  "  and  you  will  here  leave 
me." 

"  That,"  said  I,  "  I  shall  not  do.  If  you  go  alone, 
it  must  seem  to  any  one  a  murder  should  either  of 
you  die.  I  go  with  you,  come  what  may." 

He  reasoned  with  me  in  vain,  and  at  last,  seeing 
that  the  time  sped  away,  he  yielded,  and  we  hastily 
took  a  chaise  from  a  livery-stable,  and,  I  driving, 
we  went  away  to  the  place  set.  Within  a  hundred 
yards  of  it  we  tied  the  horse  and  silently  walked 
down  the  road.  Presently  Schmidt  got  over  a  fence, 
and  crossing  a  meadow  paused  under  a  group  of 
pollard  willows. 

The  scene  is  with  me  now,  to  fade  only  when  I 
also  vanish.  A  nearly  level  sun  shot  golden  light 
across  the  tufted  marsh-grasses  of  the  low  Neck 
lands,  already  touched  with  autumn  grays.  There 
was  no  house  near  us,  and  far  away  I  could  see  over 
the  ditches  and  above  the  dikes  of  this  bit  of  Hol- 
land the  tops  of  schooners  on  the  distant  Schuylkill. 
To  the  north  the  broken  lines  of  the  city  still  took 
the  fading  sun,  while  around  us  a  chill  October  haze 
began  to  dim  the  farther  meadows,  and  to  hover  in 
the  corners  of  the  dikes  and  over  the  wider  ditches. 


THEE  AND   YOU  .         273 

We  had  waited  a  few  moments  only,  I  leaning 
thoughtfully  against  a  tree,  Schmidt  quietly  walking 
to  and  fro,  smoking  as  usual,  and,  as  far  as  I  could 
see,  no  more  moved  than  if  he  were  here  to  shoot 
for  a  wager.  The  next  moment  I  started,  as  behind 
me  broke  out  the  loud  roar  of  some  ancient  bullfrog. 
In  fact,  I  was  getting  nervous  and  chilly.  Schmidt 
laughed  merrily  at  my  scare.  "  And  listen  !"  he  said, 
as  all  around  the  frogs,  big  and  little,  broke  into 
hoarse  croakings  and  chirrups.  "  Ah  1"  he  went  on, 
"  there  is  to  nature  always  a  chorus  ready.  Do  you 
find  a  sadness  in  their  tongues  to-day  ?" 

It  seemed  to  me  horrible,  indeed,  as  I  listened,  but 
it  had  never  so  seemed  to  me  before. 

"  And  now  is  our  man  here,"  exclaimed  Schmidt, 
as  the  sound  of  distant  horse-hoofs  caused  us  to  turn 
toward  the  road. 

A  moment  or  two  later,  Oldmixon,  who  had  dis- 
mounted and  tied  his  horse,  came  swiftly  over  the 
field. 

"  There  are  two !"  he  exclaimed,  abruptly. 

"  It  is  not  my  fault,"  said  Schmidt.  "  But  Mr. 
Shelburne  shall  walk  a  hundred  yards  away  and 
wait.  If  you  kill  me,  it  will  be  not  so  bad  a  thing  to 
have  one  to  say  there  was  a  fair  play." 

"  As  you  will,"  said  the  other ;  "  but  we  did  not  so 
agree." 

"The  paper,"  said  Schmidt,  "is  here;  and  the 
letters? " 

"  Are  here,"  returned  Oldmixon. 

"  Mr.  Shelburne  shall  take  them,  if  you  please," 
added  Schmidt.  "  If  you  have  good  fortune,  they 


274  THEE   AND   YOU 

both  shall  to  you ;  and  if  I  am  to  win,  Mr.  Shelburne 
shall  me  kindly  give  them,  and  I  pledge  my  honor 
as  a  man  to  be  truthful  to  what  I  have  you  promised. 
And  as  you  are  a  gentleman,  is  this  all  of  them  ?" 

"  On  my  honor,"  returned  Oldmixon,  proudly,  with 
more  courtesy  than  was  common  to  him. 

"These,  then,  to  you,  my  Shelburne,"  said  Schmidt; 
"  and,  as  I  have  said,  you  will  amuse  yourself  a  hun- 
dred yards  away,  not  looking  until  there  is  no  more 
sound  of  swords." 

I  felt  there  was  no  more  to  be  done,  and  so  walked 
slowly  away,  carrying  the  papers,  while  the  two  men 
took  off  their  coats.  I  turned  at  the  sharp  click  of 
the  meeting  blades,  and  looked  with  wild  eagerness. 
The  contrast  between  the  German's  close-set,  ungainly 
form  and  the  well-knit,  tall  figure  of  his  foe  filled  me 
on  a  sudden  with  foreboding.  I  was  surprised,  how- 
ever, in  a  moment  to  see  that  Schmidt  was  a  master 
of  his  weapon.  For  a  minute  or  so — I  cannot  tell 
how  long,  it  seemed  to  me  an  eternity — the  swords 
flashed  and  met  and  quivered  and  seemed  glued  to- 
gether, and  then  there  were  two  cries  of  rage  and 
joy.  Schmidt's  foot  had  slipped  on  the  tufted  sward, 
and  Oldmixon's  sword-point  had  entered  his  right 
breast.  The  German  caught  the  blade  with  his  left 
hand,  and  ran  his  foe  furiously  through  the  sword- 
arm,  so  that  he  dropped  his  weapon,  staggered, 
slipped,  and  fell,  while  the  German  threw  the  blade 
far  to  the  left.  I  ran  forward  at  once. 

"Back!"  cried  Schmidt;  and,  gathering  himself 
up,  said  to  Oldmixon,  "  Your  life  is  mine.  Keep  still 
or  I  will  kill  you :  as  I  live,  I  will  kill  you !  You 


THEE   AND   YOU  275 

had  Priscilla's  letters :  they  are  to  me  now.  And  do 
you  give  her  up  for  always  ?" 

"  No,"  said  Oldmixon. 

"  Then  I  shall  kill  you,"  said  Schmidt.  "  Say  your 
prayers :  you  have  no  more  to  live." 

The  fallen  man  was  white  with  fear,  and  turned 
towards  me  for  help.  The  German,  hurt,  unsteady, 
feeling  his  minutes  precious,  was  yet  cool  and  stern. 
"  The  words  !"  he  said. 

"  I  am  in  your  power,"  said  Oldmixon. 

This  was  all,  as  it  were,  a  moment's  work,  while  I 
was  advancing  over  the  half-meadow  across  which  I 
had  retreated. 

"  Schmidt,"  I  said,  "  for  Heaven's  sake,  remember 
me  at  least.  Don't  kill  a  defenceless  man  in  cold 
blood." 

"  Back!"  he  answered:  "not  a  step  more  near  or 
he  dies  as  by  you;"  and  his  dripping  sword-point 
flickered  perilously  over  Oldmixon  as  he  lay  at  his 
feet.  "  Quick !"  he  said.  "  I  am  hurt, — I  fail.  To 
kill  you  were  more  sure.  Quick  1  the  words  1  the 
words !" 

"  What  words  ?"  said  Oldmixon.  "  I  am  in  your 
power.  What  are  your  terms  ?" 

"  You  will  say,"  said  Schmidt,  his  hand  on  his  side 
and  speaking  hard,  "  you  will  say,  '  I  give  back  her 
words — with  her  letters.' " 

"  I  do,"  said  Oldmixon. 

"And  you  hear?"  said  Schmidt  to  me  coming 
near;  "  and  take  that  other  rapier,  Shelburne." 

Oldmixon  had  risen  and  stood  facing  us,  silent, 
ghastly,  an  awful  memory  to  this  day  as  a  baffled 


2/6  THEE   AND   YOU 

man,  and  around  us  the  brown  twilight,  and  his  face 
black  against  the  blue  eastern  sky. 

"Yet  a  word  more,"  said  Schmidt.  "You  have 
lost,  and  I  have  won.  To-night  shall  my  charge  be 
set  before  a  magistrate.  You  have  a  horse :  go ! 
Let  us  see  you  not  any  more." 

It  was  after  dark  by  the  time  I  reached  home  in 
the  chaise  with  my  companion,  as  to  whom  I  felt  the 
most  bitter  anxiety.  At  first  I  spoke  to  him  of  his 
condition,  but  upon  his  saying  it  hurt  him  to  talk,  I 
ceased  to  question  him  and  hurried  the  horse  over 
the  broken  road.  When  at  last  we  were  at  our  house- 
door,  I  helped  him  to  get  out,  and  saw  him  sway  a 
moment  as  with  weakness.  As  I  opened  the  door  I 
said,  "  Let  me  help  you  to  bed." 

He  replied,  "Yes,  it  were  well;"  and  resting  a 
hand  on  my  shoulder,  used  one  of  the  sheathed 
rapiers  as  a  staff. 

Candles  were  burning  in  the  parlor,  and  an  astral 
lamp,  and  voices  sober  or  merry  came  through  the 
half-closed  door.  On  the  hall-table  was  also  a  can- 
dle. Of  a  sudden  Schmidt  paused,  and  said  in  a 
voice  broken  by  weakness,  with  a  certain  pitiful  terror 
in  its  tones,  "The  power  goes  away  from  me.  I 
grow  blind,  and  shall — see — her — no — more." 

Meanwhile  he  rocked  to  and  fro,  and  then  with  a 
cry  of  "  Priscilla !"  he  turned  from  my  supporting 
shoulder,  and  as  one  dazed,  pushed  open  the  parlor 
door,  and  staggering,  sword  in  hand,  into  the  room, 
dropped  it  and  leant  both  hands  on  the  little  round 
table  for  support,  so  that  for  a  moment  the  light  fell 


THEE   AND   YOU  2/7 

on  his  ghastly  white  face  and  yearning  eyes.  Then 
he  swayed,  tottered,  and  fell  on  the  floor. 

They  were  all  around  him  in  a  moment  with  cries 
of  dismay  and  pity. 

"  What  is  this  ?"  said  some  one  to  me. 

Priscilla  was  on  the  floor  at  once,  and  had  lifted 
his  head  on  to  her  knee. 

"  He  is  hurt,"  said  I. 

"  Ah  !  God  have  pity  on  us !"  exclaimed  Whole- 
some, picking  up  his  rapier.  "  I  understand.  Bring 
water,  some  one,  and  brandy.  Quick  !" 

"  Does  thee  see,"  cried  Priscilla  in  sudden  horror, 
"  he  is  bleeding  ?  Oh,  cruel  men !" 

I  stood  by  with  fear,  remorse,  and  sorrow  in  my 
heart.  "  It  was "  I  began. 

"  Hush !"  broke  in  Wholesome,  "  another  time. 
He  is  better.  His  eyes  are  open :  he  wants  some- 
thing. What  is  it,  Heinrich  ?" 

"  Priscilla,"  he  said. 

"  Priscilla  is  here,  dear  friend,"  she  said  quietly, 
bending  over  him. 

"  I  thought  I  was  a  little  boy  and  my  head  in  my 
mother's  lap.  Where  am  I?  Ah,  but  now  I  do 
remember.  The  letters!"  and  he  fumbled  at  his 
pocket,  and  at  last  pulled  them  out.  "  With  this  on 
them,"  he  said,  "  you  cannot  ever  any  more  think  of 
him." 

They  were  stained  with  the  blood  from  his  wound. 

"Never!  never!  never!"  she  cried  piteously:  "for 
this  last  wickedness  no  forgiveness  !" 

"  And  he  is  gone,"  he  added.  "  And  Shelburne, — 
where  is  my  Shelburne  ?" 


2/8  THEE   AND    YOU 

"Here!  here!"  I  said. 

"  Tell  her — he  gives  her  up — for  always — never  no 
more  to  trouble  her  good  sweetness.  Wholesome, 
where  art  thou  ?" 

"  I  am  with  you,"  said  the  captain,  in  a  voice  husky 
with  emotion. 

"  Quick !  listen !"  continued  Schmidt,  gasping. 
"  Time  goes  away  for  me.  Is  it  that  you  do  love 
her  well  ?" 

"  Oh,  my  God !"  said  Wholesome. 

"  But  never  more  so  well  as  I,"  said  Schmidt. 
"  Priscilla !"  As  he  spoke  his  eyes  looked  up  with 
yearning  into  the  face  above  his  own.  Then  suddenly 
he  drew  a  long  breath,  his  hands  ceased  to  clutch 
her  dress,  his  head  rolled  over.  He  was  dead. 

When  another  summer  again  lit  up  the  little  garden 
with  roses,  and  the  apricot  blossoms  were  as  snow 
in  the  air  of  June,  Priscilla  married  Richard  Whole- 
some. 

All  of  Heinrich  Schmidt's  little  treasures  were  left 
to  her,  but  out  of  his  memory  came  to  her  other 
things :  a  yet  more  gracious  tenderness  in  all  her 
ways, — to  her  religion  a  greater  breadth,  to  her 
thoughts  of  men  a  charity  which  grew  sweeter  as  it 
grew  larger,  like  her  own  spring  roses. 

The  Quaker  captain  lived  as  he  had  lived,  but  grew 
more  self-contained  as  years  went  by,  and  children 
came  to  chide  with  gentle  wonder  the  rare  outbreaks 
which  were  so  sad  a  scandal  to  Friends. 

We  laid  Heinrich  Schmidt  away  in  the  shadow  of 
Christ  Church,  and  around  his  grave  grew  flowers  in 


THEE   AND   YOU  279 

such  glorious  abundance  as  he  would  have  loved, 
and  by  what  gentle  hands  they  were  planted  and 
cared  for  it  were  easy  to  guess. 

I  am  an  old  man  to-day,  but  I  cannot  yet  trust 
myself  to  try  and  analyze  this  character  of  his.  I 
still  can  only  think  with  tenderness  and  wonder  of 
its  passionate  love  of  nature,  its  unselfish  nobleness, 
its  lack  of  conscience,  and  its  overflowing  heart. 


A  DRAFT  ON 
THE  BANK  OF  SPAIN 


A  DRAFT 

ON 

THE   BANK  OF  SPAIN. 


NOT  many  of  us  would  be  eager  to  live  our  lives 
over  again  if  the  gift  of  a  new  life  were  possible ;  but 
when  I  think  upon  the  goodness  and  grace  and  love 
that  have  these  many  years  gone  side  by  side  with 
mine,  I  doubt  a  little  as  to  how  I  should  decide.  In- 
deed, were  God  to  give  it  me  to  turn  anew  the  stained 
and  dog-eared  pages  of  the  life-book,  it  would  not 
be  for  the  joy  of  labor,  or  to  see  again  the  marvels 
of  growth  in  knowledge,  that  I  should  so  yearn  as 
for  the  great  riches  of  love  which  have  made  for  me 
its  text  and  margins  beautiful  with  the  colors  of 
heaven.  And  so,  when  I  recall  this  life,  and  its  sor- 
rows and  adventures  and  successes,  with  every  mem- 
ory comes  to  me  first  of  all  the  tender  commentary 
of  that  delightful  face ;  and  I  rejoice  with  a  sudden 
following  of  fear  as  I  turn  to  see  it  again,  and  once 
more  to  wonder  at  the  calm  of  sweet  and  thoughtful 
gravity  which  the  generous  years  have  added  to  its 
abundant  wealth  of  motherly  and  gracious  beauty. 

It  is  a  little  story  of  this  matron  and  myself  which 
I  find  it  pleasant  to  tell  you ;  chiefly,  I  suppose,  be- 
283 


284      A   DRAFT   ON    THE   BANK   OF    SPAIN 

cause  it  lets  me  talk  of  her  and  her  ways  and  doings, 
— a  very  simple  story,  with  nothing  in  the  least  start- 
ling or  strange,  but  so  cheerful  and  grateful  to  me  to 
think  over  that  I  cannot  but  hope  you  too  may  get 
good  cheer  from  it,  and  like  her  a  little,  and  find 
interest  in  my  old  friend  the  clockmaker  and  his  boy, 
and  haply  come  at  last  to  believe  that  you  would  be 
pleased  to  smoke  a  pipe  with  me,  and  to  give  me  too 
of  such  love  as  you  have  to  spare ;  which,  I  take  it, 
is  for  a  man  to  get  from  man  or  woman  the  most  de- 
sirable of  earthly  things. 

We  had  been  married  a  twelvemonth,  I  think,  and 
were  coming  on  in  years,  she  being  eighteen,  and  I — 
well,  somewhat  older,  of  course.  From  among  gentle 
and  kindly  folks,  long  and  steadily  rooted  in  the  soil 
of  one  of  our  oldest  Dutch  towns  in  Middle  Penn- 
sylvania, we  had  come,  with  good  courage  and  great 
store  of  hopes,  to  seek  our  fortunes  in  the  Quaker 
City,  whose  overgrown-village  ways  always  seem 
to  the  stranger  from  the  country  so  much  more  home- 
like than  the  bullying  bustle  of  its  greater  sister. 

I  smile  now  when  I  think  what  very  young  and 
trustful  people  we  were,  May  and  I,  and  how  full  of 
knowledge  we  thought  ourselves  of  men  and  things. 
I  had  been  bred  an  engineer,  and  when  I  married 
May  was  a  draughtsman  in  a  great  manufactory, 
with  just  enough  of  an  income  to  make  our  marriage 
what  most  folks  would  call  unwise, — an  opinion  in 
which,  perhaps,  I  might  join  them,  were  it  not  that 
so  many  of  these  reckless  unions,  in  which  there  is 
only  a  great  estate  of  love,  have  seemed  to  me  in  the 
end  to  turn  out  so  well. 


A   DRAFT   ON   THE   BANK   OF    SPAIN      285 

Away  from  broad  fields,  and  laden  barns,  and  my 
father's  great  farmhouse,  and  plenty,  and  space,  we 
came  to  grope  about  for  a  home  among  strangers, 
with  at  least  a  hope  that  somewhere  in  the  city  we 
should  find  a  little  of  what  my  wife's  old  father,  the 
schoolmaster,  used  to  call  "  homesomeness."  With 
great  comfort  in  our  mutual  love,  we  found  for  a  long 
while  no  abiding-place  which  seemed  to  us  pleasant, 
until  at  last  a  happy  chance  brought  us  to  lodge 
within  the  walls  which  for  some  two  years  of  our 
young  married  life  were  all  to  us  that  we  could  ask. 

It  chanced  one  day  that  I  had  to  have  a  watch 
mended,  and  for  this  purpose  walked  into  a  shop  in 
one  of  the  older  streets, — a  place  altogether  deserted 
by  the  rich,  and  not  fully  seized  upon  by  trade. 
There  were  many  great  warerooms  and  huge  store- 
houses, with  here  and  there  between  them  an  old 
house  built  of  red  and  glazed  black  brick,  with  small 
windows  full  of  little  gnarled  glasses,  and  above  them 
a  hipped  roof.  Some  of  these  houses  had  at  that 
time  half  doors,  and  on  the  lower  half  of  one  of  these 
was  leaning  a  man  somewhat  past  middle  life.  The 
window-cases  on  either  side  were  full  of  watches, 
and  over  them  was  a  gilded  quadrant  and  the  name 
F.  WILLOW.  As  I  drew  near,  the  owner — for  he  it 
was — let  me  in,  and  when  I  gave  him  my  watch,  took 
it  without  a  word,  pushed  his  large  spectacles  down 
over  two  great  gray  eyebrows  on  to  eyes  as  gray, 
and  began  to  open  and  pore  over  the  timepiece  in  a 
rapt  and  musing  way. 

At  last  said  I,  "  Well  ?" 

"  In  a  week,"  said  he. 


286      A   DRAFT   ON    THE   BANK   OF    SPAIN 

"  A  week !"  said  I ;  "  but  how  am  I  to  get  on  for  a 
week  without  it?" 

"  Just  so  1"  he  returned.  "  Sit  down  while  I  look 
at  it,  or  come  back  in  half  an  hour." 

"  I  will  wait,"  said  I. 

Without  further  words  he  turned  to  his  seat, 
screwed  into  his  eye  one  of  those  queer  black- 
rimmed  lenses  which  clockmakers  use,  and  began  to 
peer  into  the  works  of  my  sick  watch.  In  the  mean 
while  I  amused  myself  by  strolling  between  the  little 
counters,  and  gravely  studying  the  man  and  his  be- 
longings, for  both  were  worthy  of  regard.  A  man 
of  fifty-five,  I  should  say, — upright,  despite  his  trade, 
— gray  of  beard  and  head, — with  an  eagle  nose  and 
large  white  teeth.  Altogether  a  face  full  of  power, 
and,  as  I  learned,  of  sweetness  when  I  came  to  know 
better  its  rare  smile.  The  head  was  carried  proudly 
on  a  frame  meant  by  Nature  to  have  been  the  envy 
of  an  athlete,  but  now  just  touched  with  the  sad 
shadows  of  fading  strength.  Wondering  a  little  at 
the  waste  of  such  a  frame  in  so  petty  a  toil,  I  began 
to  hear,  as  one  does  by  degrees,  the  intrusive  ticking 
of  the  many  clocks  and  watches  which  surrounded 
me.  First  I  heard  a  great  tick,  then  a  lesser,  then  by 
and  by  more  ticks,  so  as  at  last  quite  to  call  my  at- 
tention from  their  owner.  There  were  many  watches, 
and,  if  I  remember  well,  at  least  a  dozen  clocks.  In 
front  of  me  was  a  huge  old  mahogany  case,  with  a 
metal  face,  and  a  ruddy  moon  peering  over  it,  while 
a  shorter  and  more  ancient  time-piece  with  a  solemn 
cluck,  for  which  at  last  I  waited  nervously,  was  curi- 
ous enough  to  make  me  look  at  it  narrowly.  On 


A   DRAFT   ON   THE   BANK   OF   SPAIN      287 

the  top  sat  a  neatly-carved  figure  of  Time  holding  in 
both  hands  an  hour-glass,  through  which  the  last 
grains  were  slowly  dropping.  Suddenly  there  was  a 
whirring  noise  in  the  clock,  and  the  figure  grimly 
turned  the  hour-glass  in  its  hands,  so  that  it  began 
to  run  again.  The  sand  was  full  of  bits  of  bright 
metal, — gold  perhaps, — and  the  effect  was  pretty, 
although  the  figure,  which  was  cleverly  carved, 
had  a  quaint  look  of  sadness,  such  as  I  could 
almost  fancy  growing  deeper  as  he  shifted  the  glass 
anew. 

"  He  hath  a  weary  time  of  it,"  said  a  full,  strong 
voice,  which  startled  me,  who  had  not  seen  the 
clockmaker  until,  tall  as  his  greatest  clock,  he  stood 
beside  me. 

"  I  was  thinking  that,  or  some  such  like  thought," 
said  I,  but  feeling  that  the  man  spoke  for  himself  as 
well  as  for  his  puppet.  "  I  wonder  does  time  seem 
longer  to  those  who  make  and  watch  its  measurers 
all  day  long  ?" 

"  My  lad,"  said  he,  laying  two  large  white  hands 
on  my  shoulders  with  a  grave  smile  and  a  look  which 
somehow  took  away  all  offence  from  a  movement 
so  familiar  as  to  seem  odd  in  a  stranger, — "  my  lad,  I 
fancy  most  clockmakers  are  too  busy  with  turning 
the  dollar  to  care  for  or  feel  the  moral  of  their  tick- 
ing clocks."  Then  he  paused  and  added  sadly,  "  You 
are  young  to  moralize  about  time,  but  were  you 
lonely  and  friendless  you  would  find  strange  com- 
pany in  the  endless  ticking  of  these  companions  of 
mine." 

With  a  boy's  freedom  and  sympathy  I  said  quickly, 


288      A   DRAFT   ON    THE   BANK   OF    SPAIN 

"  But  is  any  one — are  you — quite  lonely  and  friend- 
less ?" 

"  I  did  not  say  so,"  he  returned,  abruptly ;  but  he 
added,  looking  around  him,  "  I  have  certainly  more 
clocks  than  friends." 

"  Well,  after  all,"  said  I,  "  Mr.  Willow,  what  is  a 
clock  but  a  friend,  with  the  power  to  do  you  one 
service,  and  no  more  ?" 

"I  think,"  said  he,  "I  have  seen  friends  who 
lacked  even  that  virtue,  but  this  special  little  friend 
of  yours  needs  regulation ;  its  conscience  is  bad. 
Perhaps  you  will  be  so  kind  as  to  call  in  a  week ;  it 
will  take  fully  that  long." 

I  went  out  amused  and  pleased  with  the  man's 
oddness,  and  feeling  also  the  charm  of  a  manner 
which  I  have  never  since  seen  equalled.  As  I  passed 
the  doorway  I  saw  tacked  to  it  a  notice  of  rooms  to 
let.  I  turned  back.  "  You  have  rooms  to  let 
Might  I  see  them  ?" 

"  If  it  please  you,  yes,"  he  said.  "  The  paper  has 
been  up  a  year,  and  you  are  the  first  to  ask  about  it. 
You  will  not  wish  to  live  long  in  this  gloomy  place, 
even,"  he  added,  "  if  I  should  want  you." 

Then  he  locked  the  shop-door  and  led  me  up  a 
little  side-stair  to  the  second  story,  and  into  two 
rooms, — the  one  looking  out  on  the  street,  and  the 
other  on  a  square  bit  of  high-walled  garden,  so  full 
of  roses — for  now  it  was  June — that  I  quite  won- 
dered to  find  how  beautiful  it  was,  and  how  sweet 
was  the  breeze  which  sauntered  in  through  the  open 
casement. 

"Pardon  me,"  said  I,  "but  did  you  plant  all  these?" 


A   DRAFT   ON   THE   BANK  OF    SPAIN      289 

"  Yes,"  he  said.  "  My  boy  and  I  took  up  the 
pavement  and  put  in  some  earth,  and  made  them 
thrive,  as,"  he  added,  "  all  things  thrive  for  him, — 
pets  or  flowers,  all  alike." 

I  turned  away,  feeling  how  quaint  and  fresh  to  me 
was  this  life  made  up  of  clocks  and  roses.  The  rooms 
also  pleased  me,  the  rent  being  lower  than  we  were 
paying ;  and  so,  after  a  glance  at  the  furniture,  which 
was  old  but  neat,  and  observing  the  decent  cleanli- 
ness of  the  place,  I  said,  "Have  you  any  other 
lodgers  ?" 

"  Two  more  clocks  on  the  stairway,"  he  replied, 
smiling. 

"  My  wife  won't  mind  them  or  their  ticking,"  I 
said.  "  I  am  always  away  until  afternoon,  and  per- 
haps she  may  find  them  companionable,  as  you  do !" 

"  Wife !"  he  said,  hastily.  "  I  shall  have  to  see 
her." 

"All  right!"  said  I. 

"  No  children  ?"  he  added. 

"  No,"  said  I. 

"  Humph !  Perhaps  I  am  sorry.  They  beat  clocks 
all  to  pieces  for  company,  as  my  boy  says." 

"  Only  my  wife  and  I,  sir.  If  you  do  not  object, 
I  will  bring  her  to  look  at  the  rooms  to-morrow." 

As  I  turned  to  leave,  I  noticed  over  the  chimney- 
place  a  tinted  coat-of-arms,  rather  worn  and  shabby. 
Beneath  it  was  the  name  "  Tressilian,"  and  above  it 
hung  a  heavy  sabre. 

As  I  walked  away  I  mused  with  a  young  man's 
sense  of  romance  over  the  man  and  his  trade,  and 
the  history  which  lay  in  his  past  life, — a  history  I 


290      A   DRAFT   ON   THE   BANK   OF    SPAIN 

never  knew,  but  which  to  this  day  still  excites  my 
good  wife's  curiosity  when  we  talk,  as  we  often  do, 
of  the  clocks  and  the  roses. 

I  shall  never  forget  the  delight  that  my  little  lady 
found  in  our  new  home,  to  which  we  soon  after 
moved.  It  was  a  warm  summer  afternoon,  as  I  well 
remember.  The  watchmaker  and  his  boy,  whom  I 
had  not  yet  seen,  were  out,  and  the  house  was  in 
charge  of  a  stout  colored  dame,  who  was  called 
Phoebe,  and  who  was  never  without  a  "  misery"  in 
her  head. 

My  May  followed  our  trunks  up-stairs,  and  went 
in  and  out,  and  wondered  at  the  coat-of-arms  and 
the  sabre ;  and  at  last,  seeing  the  roses,  was  down- 
stairs and  out  among  them  in  a  moment.  I  went 
after  her,  and  saw,  with  the  constant  joy  her  pleas- 
ures bring  to  me,  how  she  flitted  like  a  bee  to  and 
fro,  pausing  to  catch  at  each  blossom  a  fresh  per- 
fume, and  shaking  the  petals  in  a  rosy  rain  behind 
her  as  her  dress  caught  the  brambles. 

"  May,"  said  I  at  last,  "  you  have  demolished  a 
thousand  roses.  What  will  their  owner  say  ?  Look  ! 
there  is  Mr.  Willow  now." 

Then,  like  a  guilty  thing,  caught  in  her  innocent 
mood  of  joy  and  mischief,  she  paused  with  glowing 
cheeks,  and  looked  up  at  the  window  of  our  room, 
whence  Mr.  Willow  was  watching  her,  with  the  lad 
beside  him.  "  Oh,  what  a  scamp  I  am,  Harry  !"  said 
she,  and  in  a  moment  had  plucked  a  moss-rose  bud, 
and  was  away  up-stairs  with  it. 

When  I  reached  the  room  she  was  making  all  sorts 
of  little  earnest  excuses  to  the  watchmaker.  "  But  I 


A   DRAFT   ON   THE   BANK   OF    SPAIN      291 

have  spoilt  your  rose-harvest,"  she  said.  "  Will  you 
let  me  give  you  this  one  ?"  and  as  I  entered  the  man 
was  bending  down  in  a  way  which  seemed  to  me 
gracious  and  even  courtly,  a  moisture  in  his  eyes  as 
she  laughingly  pinned  the  bud  to  the  lappel  of  his 
threadbare  coat. 

"  Well,  well !"  he  said.  "  It  is  many  and  many  a 
day  since  a  woman's  hand  did  that  for  me.  We  must 
make  you  free  of  our  roses, — that  is,  if  Arthur  likes." 

The  lad  at  this  said  gravely,  "  It  would  give  me 
the  greatest  pleasure,  madam." 

I  smiled,  amused  that  the  little  woman  should  be 
called  madam  in  such  a  reverential  fashion,  while  she 
retreated  a  step  to  see  the  effect  of  her  rose,  and  then 
would  arrange  it  anew.  They  made  freshness  and 
beauty  in  the  old  wainscoted  chamber, — the  man, 
large  and  nobly  built,  with  a  look  of  tenderness  and 
latent  strength  ;  the  girl,  full  of  simplicity  and  grace, 
hovering  about  him  with  mirthful  brown  eyes  and 
changeful  color;  the  lad,  tall,  manly,  and  grave, 
watching  with  great  blue  eyes,  full  of  wonder  and  a 
boy's  deep  worship,  her  childlike  coquetries  and 
pretty  ways.  From  that  day  forward  father  and  son, 
like  another  person  I  know  of,  were  her  humble 
slaves,  and  from  that  day  to  this  the  wily  little  lady 
has  only  gone  on  adding  to  her  list  of  willing  vas- 
sals. 

It  was  early  agreed  that  the  clockmaker,  his  son, 
and  ourselves  should  take  meals  in  common  in  our 
little  back  room,  which,  under  my  wife's  hands,  soon 
came  to  look  cheerful  enough.  By  and  by  she  quietly 
took  control  of  the  housekeeping  also,  and  with 


292      A   DRAFT   ON   THE   BANK   OF    SPAIN 

Phoebe's  aid  surprised  us  with  the  ease  in  which  we 
soon  began  to  live.  But  as  to  the  roses,  if  they  had 
thriven  in  the  care  of  Arthur  and  his  father,  they  now 
rioted,  if  roses  can  riot,  in  luxury  of  growth  over 
wall  and  trellis,  and,  despite  unending  daily  tributes 
to  make  lovely  our  table  and  chamber,  grew  as  if 
to  get  up  to  her  window  was  their  sole  object  in  life. 
I  have  said  those  were  happy  days,  and  I  doubt  not 
that  for  others  than  ourselves  they  were  also  delight- 
ful. Often  in  the  afternoon  when  coming  back  from 
my  work,  I  would  peep  into  the  shop  to  see  the 
watchmaker  busy  with  his  tools,  the  lad  reading 
aloud,  and  my  wife  listening,  seated  with  her  needle- 
work between  the  counters.  Often  I  have  stayed 
quiet  a  moment  to  hear  them  as  the  lad,  perched  on 
a  high  stool,  would  sit  with  a  finger  in  his  book, 
making  shrewd  comments  full  of  a  strange  thought- 
fulness,  until  the  watchmaker,  turning,  would  listen 
well  pleased,  or  May  would  find  her  delight  in  urging 
the  two  to  fierce  battle  of  argument,  her  eyes  twink- 
ling with  mischief  as  she  set  about  giving  some  ab- 
surd decision,  while  the  clocks  big  and  little  ticked 
solemnly,  and  the  watches  from  far  corners  made  faint 
echoes.  Or  perhaps,  in  the  midst  of  their  chat,  all 
the  clocks  would  begin  to  strike  the  hour,  and  on  a 
sudden  the  watchmaker  would  start  up  from  his  seat 
and  stride  toward  some  delinquent  a  little  late  in  its 
task,  and  savagely  twist  its  entrails  a  bit,  and  then 
back  to  his  seat,  comforted  for  a  time.  My  May  had 
all  sorts  of  queer  beliefs  about  these  clocks  and  their 
master,  and  delighted  to  push  the  hands  a  little  back 
or  forward,  until  poor  Willow  was  in  despair.  One 


A   DRAFT   ON   THE   BANK   OF    SPAIN      293 

hapless  bit  of  brass  and  iron,  which  was  always  five 
minutes  late  in  striking,  she  called  the  foolish  virgin, 
and  at  last  carried  off  to  her  room,  explaining  that 
it  was  so  nice  to  get  up  five  minutes  late,  and  the 
clock  would  help  her  to  do  it ;  with  other  such  pleas- 
ant sillinesses  as  might  have  been  looked  for  from  a 
young  person  who  kept  company  with  idle  roses  and 
the  like. 

But  if  the  clockmaker  and  my  wife  were  good 
friends,  the  lad  and  she  were  sworn  allies,  and  just 
the  frank,  wholesome  friend  she  has  since  been  to 
my  boys  she  was  then  to  young  Willow.  His  white 
mice  and  the  curiously  tame  little  guinea  pig,  which 
had  been  taught  not  to  gnaw  the  roses, — hard  sen- 
tence for  those  cunning  teeth  of  his  1 — were  hers 
in  a  little  while  as  much  as  the  boy's,  and  the  two 
had  even  come  at  last  to  share  his  favorite  belief 
that  the  solemn  old  battered  box-turtle  in  the  garden 
had  been  marked  with  "  G.  W."  by  General  Wash- 
ington, and  was  to  live  to  be  the  last  veteran  of  '76. 
I  used  to  propose  in  my  unheroic  moments  that  the 
old  fellow  should  apply  for  a  pension,  but  my  jeers 
were  received  with  patience,  and  this  and  other  boy- 
beliefs  rested  unshaken. 

There  are  many  scenes  of  our  quiet  life  of  those 
days  which  are  still  present  to  me  in  such  reality  as 
if  they  were  pictures  which  I  had  but  to  open  a  gal- 
lery door  to  see  anew.  The  watchmaker  seems  to 
me  always  a  foremost  figure  in  my  groups.  He  was 
a  man  often  moody,  and  prone  when  at  leisure  to  sit 
looking  out  from  under  his  shaggy  eyebrows  into 
some  far-away  distance  of  time  and  space;  almost 


294      A   DRAFT   ON   THE   BANK   OF    SPAIN 

haughty  at  times,  and  again  so  genial  and  sunshiny 
and  full  of  good  talk  and  quick-witted  fancies  that  it 
was  a  never-ceasing  wonder  to  us  unmoody  young 
folks  how  these  human  climates  could  change  and 
shift  so  strangely.  His  wintry  times  were  sadly  fre- 
quent when,  as  we  came  to  know  him  better,  he 
ceased  to  make  efforts  to  please,  and  yielded  to  the 
sway  of  his  accustomed  sadness.  The  boy  made  a 
curious  contrast,  and  was  so  full  of  happy  outbursts 
of  spirits  and  mirth,  so  swiftly  changing  too,  with  an 
ever-brightening  growth  of  mind,  that  beside  his 
father  no  one  could  fail  to  think  of  him  as  of  the 
healthful  promise  of  the  springtide  hour.  And  as 
for  my  wife,  in  his  better  times  the  watchmaker  had 
a  pretty  way  of  calling  her  "  Summer,"  which  by  and 
by,  for  his  own  use,  the  lad  made  into  "  Mother  Sum- 
mer," until  at  length  the  little  lady,  well  pleased  with 
her  nicknames,  answered  to  them  as  readily  as  to  her 
lawful  titles. 

I  used  to  think  our  happiest  days  were  the  bright 
Sundays  in  the  fall  of  the  last  year  of  our  long  stay 
with  the  Willows.  We  had  taken  up  the  habit  of 
going  to  the  Swedes'  Church,  which  in  fact  was  the 
nearest  to  our  house,  and  surely  of  all  the  homes  of 
prayer  the  quaintest  and  most  ancient  in  the  city. 
Always  when  the  afternoon  service  was  over  we  used 
to  wander  a  little  about  the  well-filled  churchyard 
and  read  the  inscription  on  Wilson's  grave,  and  won- 
der, with  our  boy-friend,  who  knew  well  his  story,  if 
the  many  birds  which  haunted  the  place  came  here 
to  do  him  honor.  Pleasant  it  was  also  to  make  our 
way  homeward  among  old  houses  long  left  by  the 


A   DRAFT   ON   THE   BANK   OF   SPAIN      295 

rich,  and  at  last  to  find  ourselves  sauntering  slowly 
up  the  wharves,  quietest  of  all  the  highways  on  Sun- 
day, with  their  ships  and  steamers  and  laden  market- 
boats  jostling  one  another  at  their  moorings,  like 
boys  at  church,  as  if  weary  of  the  unaccustomed 
stillness.  Then,  when  the  day  was  over,  we  were  in 
the  habit  of  sitting  in  the  open  doorway  of  the  shop 
watching  the  neatly-dressed  Sunday  folk,  lulled  by 
the  quiet  of  the  hour  and  the  busy,  monotonous 
ticking  of  the  little  army  of  clocks  behind  us,  while 
my  wife  filled  our  pipes,  and  the  talk,  gay  or  grave, 
rose  and  fell. 

On  such  an  early  October  evening  came  to  us  the 
first  break  in  the  tranquil  sameness  of  our  lives.  We 
had  enjoyed  the  evening  quiet,  and  had  just  left  the 
garden  and  gone  into  the  shop,  where  Mr.  Willow 
had  certain  work  to  do,  which  perhaps  was  made 
lighter  by  our  careless  chat.  By  and  by,  as  the  night 
fell,  one  or  two  sea-captains  called  in  with  their  chro- 
nometers, that  they  might  be  set  in  order  by  the 
clockmaker.  Then  the  lad  put  up  and  barred  the 
old-fashioned  shutters,  and  coming  back  settled  him- 
self into  a  corner  with  a  torn  volume  of  "  Gulliver's 
Travels,"  over  which  now  and  then  he  broke  out  into 
great  joy  of  laughter,  which  was  not  to  be  stilled 
until  he  had  read  us  a  passage  or  two,  whilst  between- 
times  my  wife's  knitting-needles  clicked  an  irregular 
reply  to  the  ticking  clocks,  and  I  sat  musing  and 
smoking,  a  little  tired  by  a  long  day's  work. 

At  last  the  watchmaker  paused  from  his  task  and 
called  us  to  look  at  it.  It  was  some  kind  of  register- 
ing instrument  for  the  Coast  Survey, — a  patent  on 


296      A   DRAFT   ON   THE   BANK   OF    SPAIN 

which  he  greatly  prided  himself.  Seven  or  eight 
pendulums  were  arranged  in  such  a  manner  that  their 
number  corrected  the  single  error  of  each  escapement. 
Further  I  do  not  remember,  but  only  recall  how  we 
marvelled  at  the  beautiful  steadiness  of  the  movement, 
and  how  my  wife  clapped  her  hands  joyously  at  the 
happy  end  of  so  much  toil  and  thought. 

"  It  is  done,"  said  the  watchmaker,  rising.  "  Let 
us  look  how  the  night  goes ;"  for  it  was  a  constant 
custom  with  him  always  before  going  to  bed  to  stand 
at  the  door  for  a  little  while  and  look  up  at  the  heav- 
ens. He  said  it  was  to  see  what  the  weather  would 
be,  a  matter  in  which  he  greatly  concerned  himself, 
keeping  a  pet  thermometer  in  the  garden,  and  noting 
day  by  day  its  eccentricities  with  an  interest  which 
no  one  but  my  wife  ever  made  believe  to  share.  I 
followed  him  to  the  open  door,  where  he  stood  lean- 
ing against  the  side-post,  looking  steadily  up  at  the 
sky.  The  air  was  crisp  and  cool,  and  overhead,  thick 
as  snow-flakes,  the  stars  twinkled  as  if  they  were 
keeping  time  to  the  ticking  clocks.  Presently  my 
wife  came  out,  and  laying  a  hand  on  his  arm  stood 
beside  us  and  drank  in  the  delicious  calm  of  the 
autumn  night,  while  the  lad  fidgeted  under  his  elbow 
between  them,  and  got  his  share  of  the  starlight  and 
the  quiet. 

"  It  seems  hard  to  think  they  are  all  moving  for 
ever  and  ever,"  said  the  boy.  "  I  wonder  if  they  are 
wound  up  as  often  as  your  clocks,  father  ?" 

"  It  is  only  a  great  clock,  after  all,"  said  Willow, 
"  and  must  stop  some  of  these  days,  I  suppose.  Did 
ever  you  think  of  that,  little  Summer  ?" 


A   DRAFT   ON   THE   BANK   OF    SPAIN      297 

"  Will  last  our  time,"  said  my  wife. 

"  Your  time !"  returned  the  clockmaker.  "  Your 
time  is  forever,  little  woman :  you  may  live  in  the 
days  not  of  this  world  to  see  the  old  wonder  of  it  all 
fade  out  and  perish." 

Just  then  a  man  stopped  in  front  of  us  and  said, 
"  Does  Mr.  Willow  live  here?" 

"  Yes,"  said  I ;  and  as  he  came  toward  us  we 
naturally  gave  way,  thinking  him  some  belated  cus- 
tomer, and  he  entered  the  lighted  shop. 

Then  Willow  turned  again,  and  the  two  men  came 
face  to  face.  The  stranger  was  a  man  of  great  height, 
but  spare  and  delicate.  He  leaned  on  a  gold-headed 
cane  somewhat  feebly,  and  seemed  to  me  a  person  of 
great  age.  What  struck  me  most,  however,  was  the 
ease  and  grace  of  his  bearing  and  a  certain  elegance 
of  dress  and  manner.  The  moment  Willow  set  eyes 
on  him  he  staggered  back,  reeled  a  moment,  and, 
catching  at  a  chair,  fell  against  the  tall  clock  over 
which  he  had  set  the  figure  of  Time.  "  What  has 
brought  you  here  ?"  he  cried,  hoarsely. 

"  My  son,  my  boy,"  said  the  elder  man,  in  a  voice 
shaken  by  its  passion  of  tenderness.  "  Can  you 
never,  never  forget  ?" 

"  Forget !"  said  the  other.  "  I  had  almost  come  to 
that,  but,  remembering  anew,  how  can  I  ever  forgive  ? 
Go !"  he  cried,  fiercely,  darting  forward  on  a  sudden 
and  opening  the  door.  "  Go,  before  the  madness 
comes  upon  me.  Go,  go  before  I  curse  you."  Then 
he  reeled  again,  and  growing  white,  fell  into  a  chair, 
and  as  if  choked  with  emotion,  stayed,  rigidly  point- 
ing to  the  door. 


298      A   DRAFT   ON    THE   BANK   OF    SPAIN 

Then  my  wife  ran  forward.  "  Leave  us,"  she  said, 
"whoever  you  are.  You  see  how  ill  he  is.  You 
can  do  no  good  here.  Come  again  if  you  will,  but 
go  away  now." 

The  stranger  hesitated  and  looked  in  bewilderment 
from  one  to  another,  while  the  lad,  till  then  silent, 
opened  the  door  wider  and  said,  gently,  "  Will  it 
please  you  to  go,  grandfather  ?" 

"  My  boy — his  boy !"  exclaimed  the  new-comer, 
patting  his  curly  head.  "  Now  am  I  indeed  pun- 
ished," he  added,  for  the  lad  shrunk  back  with  a  look 
of  horror  quite  strange  on  a  face  so  young,  and, 
suddenly  covering  his  face  with  both  hands,  the 
elder  man  went  by  him  and  passed  out  into  the  street 
without  a  word.  Then  the  boy  hastily  shut  the  door, 
and  we  turned  to  Willow,  who  had  fallen  in  some- 
thing like  a  swoon  from  his  chair.  Silently  or  with 
whispers  we  gathered  about  him,  while  my  wife 
brought  a  pillow  and  some  water  and  gave  him  to 
drink.  At  last  we  got  him  up-stairs  to  our  own 
room,  where  for  some  days  he  lay  in  a  state  of  feeble- 
ness which  seemed  to  me  very  strange  in  one  so 
vigorous  but  a  little  while  before.  On  the  next 
morning  after  his  attack  he  showed  some  uneasiness, 
and  at  length  was  able  to  bid  us  take  down  the 
painted  arms  over  the  fireplace  and  hide  them  away ; 
but  beyond  this  he  gave  no  sign  of  what  he  had  passed 
through,  and  by  slow  degrees  got  back  again  very 
nearly  his  wonted  habits  and  mode  of  life. 

I  need  scarcely  say  that  so  strange  an  event  could 
hardly  take  place  in  our  little  household  without 
awakening  the  curiosity  of  two  people  as  young  and 


A   DRAFT   ON   THE   BANK   OF    SPAIN      299 

romantic  as  May  and  I.  Indeed,  I  greatly  fear  that 
the  little  lady  so  far  yielded  to  the  impulses  of  her 
sex  as  even  to  question  young  Willow  in  a  round- 
about way ;  but  the  lad  was  plainly  enough  schooled 
to  silence,  and  you  had  only  to  look  at  his  square, 
strongly-built  chin  to  learn  how  hopeless  it  would  be 
to  urge  him  when  once  his  mind  was  made  up.  He 
only  smiled  and  put  the  question  by  as  a  man  would 
have  done,  and  before  us  at  least  neither  father  nor 
son  spoke  of  it  again  during  the  next  month. 

The  pleasant  hazy  November  days  came  and  went, 
and  one  evening  on  my  return  home  I  learned  that 
Mr.  Willow  had  suffered  from  a  second  attack  of 
faintness,  and  from  my  wife  I  heard  that  the  lad  had 
let  fall  that  his  grandfather  had  called  once  more,  and 
that  the  two  men  had  had  another  brief  and  bitter 
meeting.  The  following  morning,  as  I  went  to  my 
work,  I  saw  the  stranger  walking  to  and  fro  on  the 
far  side  of  the  street.  Nothing  could  be  more  piti- 
able than  his  whole  look  and  bearing,  because  nothing 
is  sadder  to  see  than  a  man  of  gentle  breeding  so 
worn  with  some  great  sorrow  as  to  have  become 
shabby  from  mere  neglect  of  himself.  He  peered 
across  the  street,  looked  up  at  the  windows  and  at 
the  shop,  and  at  last  walked  feebly  away,  with  now 
and  then  a  wistful  look  back  again, — such  a  look  as 
I  saw  once  in  my  life  in  the  great  eyes  of  a  huge 
watch-dog  whom  we  left  on  the  prairie  beside  the 
lonely  grave  of  his  master. 

From  this  time  onward,  all  through  a  severe  win- 
ter, he  haunted  the  neighborhood,  once  again,  and 
only  once,  venturing  to  speak  to  the  clockmaker,  to 


300      A   DRAFT   ON   THE   BANK   OF    SPAIN 

whom  his  constant  presence  where  he  could  hardly 
fail  to  see  him  at  times  became  a  torture  which  was 
plainly  wearing  his  life  away.  Twice  also  he  spoke 
to  the  boy,  and  once  urged  him  to  take  a  little  pack- 
age which  we  supposed  might  have  been  money.  At 
last  my  anxiety  became  so  great  that  I  spoke  to  him 
myself,  but  was  met  so  coldly,  although  with  much 
courtesy,  that  I  felt  little  inclined  to  make  the  same 
attempt  again. 

I  learned  with  no  great  trouble  that  he  lived  quietly 
during  this  winter  at  one  of  our  greater  hotels,  that 
he  seemed  to  be  a  man  of  ample  means,  and  that  his 
name  was  Tressilian,  but  beyond  this  I  knew  no 
more.  He  came,  at  last,  to  be  a  well-known  figure 
in  our  neighborhood,  as  he  wandered  sadly  about 
among  rough  porters  and  draymen  and  the  busy 
bustle  of  trade.  His  visits  to  our  house,  and  his 
questions  about  Mr.  Willow,  were  added  sources  of 
annoyance  to  the  latter,  who  rarely  failed  to  look 
gloomily  up  and  down  the  street,  to  make  sure  of 
his  absence,  before  he  ventured  out  of  doors. 

Under  this  system  of  watching  and  worry,  Mr. 
Willow's  attacks  grew  at  last  more  frequent,  and  as 
the  spring  came  on  my  good  wife  became,  as  she  said, 
worked  up  to  that  degree  that  she  at  last  made  up 
her  feminine  mind ;  and  so  one  fine  morning  sallied 
out  and  had  her  own  talk  with  the  cause  of  our 
troubles. 

I  think  the  good  little  woman  had  determined  to 
try  if  she  could  reconcile  the  father  and  son.  She 
came  to  me  in  the  evening  a  good  deal  crestfallen,  and 
with  very  little  of  the  blessedness  of  the  peacemaker 


A   DRAFT   ON   THE   BANK   OF   SPAIN      301 

in  her  face.  While  Mr.  Willow  was  out  she  had  sent 
his  son,  who  was  keeping  guard  in  the  shop,  on  an 
errand,  and  had  then  actually  brought  the  stranger 
into  the  house,  where,  refusing  to  sit  down,  he  had 
wandered  to  and  fro,  talking  half  coherently  at  times, 
and  at  last  urging  her  to  induce  his  son  to  speak 
with  him  once  more.  As  to  their  cause  of  quarrel 
he  was  silent.  "A  lonely,  sad  old  man,"  said  my 
wife.  He  said  he  would  kneel  to  his  boy,  if  that 
would  do  good,  but  to  go  away,  to  go  away  and  leave 
him,  that  he  could  not  do, — that  he  would  not  do. 
God  would  bless  her,  he  was  sure ;  and  might  he  kiss 
her  hand  ?  and  so  went  away  at  last  sorrow-stricken, 
but  wilful  to  keep  to  his  purpose. 

Perhaps  my  wife's  talk  may  have  had  its  effect, 
because  for  a  month  or  two  he  was  absent.  Then  he 
came  and  asked  at  the  door  for  Willow,  who  was  out, 
and  for  a  while  haunted  the  street,  until  late  in  the 
spring,  when  we  saw  him  no  longer. 

Meanwhile,  Willow  had  become  more  feeble, 
and  a  new  trouble  had  come  to  our  own  modest 
door. 

Many  years  have  since  gone  by,  and  happier  for- 
tunes have  been  ours, — brave  sons  and  fair  daugh- 
ters, and  more  of  this  world's  gear  than  perhaps  is 
good  for  us  to  leave  them, — but  to  this  day  I  remem- 
ber with  discomfort  that  luckless  evening.  I  hastened 
home  with  the  news  to  my  wife ;  and  what  news  to 
two  trustful  young  folks,  who  had  married  against 
the  will  of  their  elders,  and  had  seen,  as  yet,  no  cause 
to  regret  their  waywardness ! 

"  May,"  said   I, — and   I   can  recall  how  full  my 


302      A  DRAFT   ON   THE   BANK   OF    SPAIN 

throat  felt  as  I  spoke, — "  May,  I — I  am  thrown  out 
of  work.  The  company  is  lessening  its  staff,  and  I 
am  to  be  discharged." 

I  thought  the  little  woman  would  have  been 
crushed,  but,  on  the  contrary,  it  was  I,  who  meant  to 
comfort  her,  who  was  the  beaten  one. 

"  Well,  Harry,"  said  she,  in  a  cheery  way,  "  I  did 
not  suppose  it  would  last  forever." 

Man  though  I  was,  I  sat  down  and  covered  my 
face  with  my  hands.  We  were  very  young,  and  very, 
very  poor.  I  had  been  offered,  not  long  before,  a 
place  in  the  West,  but  our  little  treasury  was  very 
low,  and  to  secure  the  position  with  a  probable  fu- 
ture of  success  required  some  hundreds  of  dollars, 
so  that  we  had  not  dared  to  give  it  another  thought ; 
and  now,  at  last,  what  were  we  to  do  ? 

"Do!"  said  May.  "Why But  kiss  me, 

Harry, — you  haven't  kissed  me  since  you  came 
in." 

I  kissed  her,  rather  dolefully  I  fear.  "  We  can't 
live  on  kisses,"  said  I. 

"  Not  as  a  steady  diet,"  she  replied,  laughing. 
"  Perhaps  this  may  have  good  news  for  us ;"  and  so 
saying,  she  handed  me  a  letter. 

I  opened  it  absently  and  glanced  over  it  in  haste. 
"  Misfortunes  never  come  single,  May,"  said  I. 

"  No,  my  darling,"  she  answered,  laughing;  "  they 
only  come  to  married  people,  to  make  them  good 
girls  and  boys,  I  suppose.  What  is  it,  you  grumpy 
old  man  ?" 

I  read  it  aloud.  It  was  a  request — and  a  rather 
crusty  one  too — from  a  bachelor  cousin  to  return  to 


A   DRAFT   ON   THE   BANK   OF    SPAIN       303 

him  a  small  sum  which  he  had  lent  us  when  we  were 
married.  He  had  met  with  certain  losses  which 
made  it  needful  that  he  should  be  repaid  at  once. 

"  Any  more  letters,  May  ?"  said  I,  ruefully. 

"  Nonsense !"  said  she.  "  Let  us  think  about  it 
to-morrow." 

"  What  good  will  sleeping  on  it  do  ?"  I  replied. 
"  Do  you  expect  to  dream  a  fortune  ?" 

"  I  have  dreamed  a  good  many,"  she  said,  "  in  my 
time,  and  all  for  you,  you  ungrateful  fellow.  Now 
suppose " 

"Well,  suppose  what?"  said  I,  crossly. 

"  Suppose,"  she  returned, — "  suppose  we  two  laugh 
a  little." 

That  woman  would  have  laughed  at  anything  or 
with  anybody. 

"  I  can't  laugh,  May,"  said  I.  "  We  are  in  a  rathe! 
serious  scrape,  I  assure  you." 

"  Scrape  !"  said  she.  "  Old  age  is  a  scrape,  but  at 
twenty-two  all  the  good  things  of  time  are  before  us , 
and — and  God,  my  darling,  has  he  not  been  very, 
very  good  to  us  two  sparrows  ?" 

"But,  May,"  said  I,  "it  is  not  myself  I  think  of; 
it  is " 

"  Me,  I  suppose, — me.  Do  you  know  how  rich  I 
am,  Harry?  It  seems  to  me  I  never  can  be  poor. 
There's,  first,  your  love, — that  is  twenty  thousand 
dollars ;  then  there  is  that  dear  old  bearded  face  of 
yours, — that  is  ten  thousand  more ;  then  there  is  all 
the  rest  of  you, — that's  ever  so  much  more;  and  then 
there  are  my  Spanish  castles " 

"  May,  May,"  said  I,  "  if  castles  in  Spain  would 


304      A   DRAFT   ON   THE   BANK   OF    SPAIN 

aid  us,  I  would  gladly  enough  help  you  to  build 
them ;  but  for  my  part " 

"  For  my  part,"  she  broke  in,  "  castles  in  Spain 
do  help  me.  They  help  me  to  get  over  the  shock  of 
this  horrid  bother,  and  to  gain  a  little  time  to  steady 
myself.  Indeed,  I  think  if  I  were  to  draw  a  big 
check  on  the  Rothschilds  at  this  very  moment,  it 
would  ease  me  a  bit.  It  would  ease  me,  you  see, 
even  if  they  did  not  pay  it." 

"  May,  May  !"  said  I,  reproachfully. 

"  Now,  Harry,"  she  cried,  laughing,  "  I  must  laugh 
and  have  my  nonsense  out.  I  can't  cry,  even  for  you. 
Let  us  go  out  and  have  a  good  long  walk,  and  to- 
morrow talk  over  this  trouble.  We  shall  live  to 
smile  at  the  fuss  we  have  made  about  it.  So,  change 
your  coat  and  come  with  me;  I  was  just  dressed  to 
go  out  to  meet  you." 

"Well,  May,"  I  said,  "if  only " 

"If! — fiddlesticks!"  she  cried,  putting  her  hand 
over  my  mouth  and  pushing  me  away.  "  Hurry,  or 
we  shall  be  late." 

I  don't  often  resist  the  little  lady,  and  so  I  went 
as  she  bid  me,  and  by  and  by  coming  back,  there 
was  May  laughing  and  making  absurdly  merry  over 
a  bit  of  paper  on  the  desk  before  her.  I  leaned  over 
her  shoulder  and  said,  "  What  is  it,  sweetheart  ?" 

"  Riches,"  said  she. 

"  Nonsense !"  said  I. 

"  What  a  relapse  !"  cried  the  wifey.  "  So  you 
despise  gold,  do  you  ?  See  what  I  have  been  doing 
for  you  while  you  have  been  idling  in  the  next 
room." 


A   DRAFT   ON   THE   BANK   OF    SPAIN      305 

"  What  is  it  ?"  said  I,  laughing,  for  not  to  laugh 
when  she  laughed  was  simply  out  of  the  question. 

She  gave  me  the  paper,  and  I  read  just  this  pretty 
stuff: 

"  The  Bank  of  Spain,  please  pay  to  Bearer  (who, 
the  benevolent  bank  should  know,  is  out  of  place 
and  out  of  humor,  and  owes  money  not  of  Spain) 
One  Thousand  Dollars. 

"$iooo.  "THE  BEST  OF  WIVES." 

We  left  the  order  and  the  wretched  letter  on  the 
desk,  and  went  merrily  down-stairs,  full  once  more 
of  hope  and  faith,  comforted  somehow  by  so  little  a 
thing  as  this  jest  of  hers.  I  made,  as  I  remember,  a 
feeble  effort  to  plunge  anew  into  my  griefs,  but  May 
rattled  on  so  cheerfully,  and  the  laugh  and  the  smile 
were  so  honest  and  wholesome,  that  good  humor 
could  no  more  fail  to  grow  in  their  company  than  a 
rose  refuse  to  prosper  in  the  warm  sweet  suns  of 
June.  I  have  loved  that  woman  long,  and  have  greatly 
loved  her  afresh  for  the  good  and  tender  things  I 
have  seen  her  do,  but  it  was  on  the  summer  evening 
of  our  trouble  I  first  learned  that  I  could  love  her 
more,  and  that  truly  to  love  is  but  to  grow  in  all 
knowledge  of  such  courage  and  winning  sweetness 
and  gallant,  cheery  endurance  as  she  showed  me 
then,  just  as  it  were  for  a  little  glimpse  of  the  gra- 
cious largeness  of  this  amazing  blessing  which  had 
fallen  into  my  poor  lap  and  life. 

That  warm  June  afternoon  was  filled  full  for  me 
of  those  delightful  pictures  which  I  told  you  have 


306      A   DRAFT   ON   THE   BANK   OF    SPAIN 

hung,  with  others  more  or  less  faded,  in  the  great 
gallery  of  art  which  adorns  my  Spanish  castle.  There 
are  bits  by  a  rare  artist  of  the  long-gone  gables  and 
hip-roofs  and  half  doors  which  used  to  make  old 
Swanson  Street  picturesque.  There  is  one  little 
group  of  boys  just  loosed  from  school,  ruddy  and 
jolly,  around  a  peanut-stand,  alike  eager  and  penni- 
less, while  behind  them  May — reckless,  imprudent 
May ! — is  holding  up  a  dime  to  the  old  woman,  and 
laughing  at  the  greedy  joy  that  is  coming  on  a  sud- 
den over  the  urchins'  faces  as  the  nuts  become  a 
possible  possession. 

We  were  great  walkers  in  those  days ;  and  as  we 
walked  and  the  houses  and  poor  suburbs  were  left 
behind,  and  we  gained  the  open  roads  which  run 
wildly  crooked  across  the  Neck,  it  was  pleasant  to 
feel  that  we  had  escaped  from  the  tyranny  of  right 
angles.  It  was  the  first  time  we  had  gone  south  of 
the  city,  and  we  found  there,  as  you  may  find  to-day, 
the  only  landscape  near  us  which  has  in  it  something 
quite  its  own,  and  which  is  not  elsewhere  to  be  seen 
near  to  any  great  city  in  all  our  broad  country.  It 
has  helped  me  to  one  or  two  landscapes  by  Dutch 
artists,  which  will  fetch  a  great  price  if  ever  my  heirs 
shall  sell  the  Spanish  castle. 

Wide,  level,  grassy  meadows,  bounded  by  two 
noble  rivers,  kept  back  by  miles  of  dikes ;  formal 
little  canals,  which  replace  the  fences  and  leave  an 
open  view  of  lowing  cattle ;  long  lines  of  tufted  pol- 
lard willows,  shock-headed,  sturdy  fellows ;  and  here 
and  there  a  low-walled  cottage,  with  gleaming  milk- 
cans  on  the  whitewashed  garden  palings;  and,  be- 


A   DRAFT   ON    THE   BANK   OF    SPAIN      307 

tween,  glimpses  of  red  poppies,  tulips,  and  the  like, 
while  far  away  in  the  distance  tall  snowy  sails  of 
hidden  hulks  of  ships  and  schooners  move  slowly  to 
and  fro  upon  the  unseen  rivers. 

Charming  we  found  it,  with  a  lowland  beauty  all 
its  own,  lacking  but  a  wind-mill  here  and  there  to 
make  it  perfect  of  its  kind.  Along  its  heaped-up 
roads  we  wandered  all  that  summer  afternoon,  until 
the  level  sun  gleamed  yellow  on  the  long  wayside 
ditches,  with  their  armies  of  cat-tails  and  spatter- 
docks  and  tiny  duckweed ;  and  at  last  the  frogs  came 
out,  both  big  and  small,  and  said  or  sung  odd  bits 
of  half-human  language,  which  it  pleased  the  little 
woman  to  convert  into  absurd  pieces  of  advice  to 
doleful  young  folks  such  as  we.  She  would  have 
me  pause  and  listen  to  one  solemn  old  fellow  who 
said,  I  am  sure,  "  Good  luck !  good  luck !"  and  to 
another  sturdy  brown-backed  preacher,  who  bade 
us  "  Keep  up !  keep  up !"  with  a  grim  solemness  of 
purpose  most  comforting  to  hear.  Then  we  stopped 
at  a  cottage  and  saw  the  cows  milked,  which  seemed 
so  like  home  that  the  tears  came  into  my  wife's 
eyes ;  and  at  last  we  had  a  bowl  of  sweet-smelling 
milk,  and  then  turned  homeward  again,  the  smoke 
of  my  pipe  curling  upward  in  the  still  cool  evening 
air. 

It  was  long  after  dark  when  we  reached  home. 
As  we  went  up  the  side  stair  which  opened  on  the 
street  by  a  door  of  its  own,  I  put  my  head  into  the 
shop  and  bade  Mr.  Willow  good-night.  He  was 
seated  at  his  bench  studying  the  strange  swing  of 
the  many  pendulums  of  his  new  instrument,  but  in 


308      A   DRAFT   ON    THE   BANK   OF    SPAIN 

place  of  the  pleased  look  which  the  view  of  his  com- 
pleted task  usually  brought  upon  his  face,  it  was  sad 
and  weary,  and  he  merely  turned  his  head  a  moment 
to  answer  my  salute.  On  the  stairs  we  met  Phoebe, 
who  was  greatly  troubled,  and  told  us  that  a  little 
while  before  dusk,  Mr.  Willow  and  his  son  being  out, 
the  stranger  had  called,  and  asking  for  my  wife, — 
for  the  little  lady,  as  he  called  her, — had  pushed  by 
the  maid  and  gone  up-stairs,  saying  that  he  would 
wait  to  see  her.  Phoebe,  alarmed  at  his  wild  manner, 
had  kept  watch  at  our  door  until  her  master  came 
back.  Then  she  had  heard  in  our  room,  where  the 
son  and  father  met,  fierce  and  angry  words,  after 
which  the  old  man  had  gone  away  and  the  clock- 
maker  had  retired  to  his  shop.  All  that  evening  we 
sat  in  the  darkness  of  our  room  alone,  thinking  it 
best  not  to  disturb  Mr.  Willow  and  his  lad,  who  were 
by  themselves  in  the  shop.  About  ten  the  boy  came 
up,  bade  us  a  good-night,  and  soon  after  we  ourselves 
went,  somewhat  tired,  to  bed. 

The  next  day  was  Sunday,  and  as  usual  we  slept 
rather  later  than  common.  After  dressing  I  went 
into  the  back  room,  and,  throwing  up  the  window, 
stood  still  to  breathe  the  freshness  of  the  time.  The 
pigeons  were  coquetting  on  the  opposite  gables  and 
housetops,  and  below  me,  in  the  garden,  the  rare 
breezes  which  had  lost  their  way  in  the  city  were 
swinging  the  roses  and  jessamines  like  censers,  till 
their  mingled  odors  made  rich  the  morning  air. 

Suddenly  I  heard  a  cry  of  surprise,  and  turning, 
saw  my  May,  prettier  and  fresher  than  any  roses  in 
her  neat  white  morning-dress.  Her  face  was  full  of 


A   DRAFT   ON   THE   BANK   OF    SPAIN       309 

wonder,  and  she  held  in  her  hands  the  papers  we  had 
left  on  the  table  the  night  before. 

"  What  is  it  now,  May  ?"  said  I. 

"Look!"  she  said,  holding  up  her  draft  on  the 
Bank  of  Spain. 

Beneath  it  was  written,  in  a  bold  and  flowing  hand, 
"  Paid  by  the  Bank  of  Spain,"  and  pinned  fast  to  the 
paper  was  a  bank-note  for — I  could  hardly  credit 
my  eyes — one  thousand  dollars.  We  looked  at  one 
another  for  a  moment,  speechless.  Then  May  burst 
into  tears  and  laid  her  head  on  my  shoulder.  I  can- 
not understand  why  she  cried,  but  that  was  just  what 
this  odd  little  woman  did.  She  cried  and  laughed 
by  turns,  and  would  not  be  stilled,  saying,  "  Oh, 
Harry,  don't  you  see  I  was  right?  God  has  been 
good  to  us  this  Sabbath  morning." 

At  last  I  took  her  in  my  arms  and  tried  to  make 
her  see  that  the  money  was  not  ours,  but  then  the 
little  lady  was  outraged.  She  called  Phoebe,  and 
questioned  her  and  young  Willow  in  vain.  Neither 
knew  anything  of  the  matter,  and  my  own  notion  as 
to  its  having  been  a  freak  of  the  English  stranger  she 
utterly  refused  to  listen  to. 

It  was  vast  wealth  to  us  needy  young  people,  this 
thousand  dollars,  and  as  it  lay  there  on  the  table  it 
seemed  to  me  at  times  unreal,  or  as  if  it  might  be  the 
dreamed  fulfilment  of  a  dream,  soon  to  vanish  and 
be  gone.  My  wife  must  also  have  had  some  such 
fancy,  for  she  was  all  the  time  running  back  and  for- 
ward, now  handling  the  note,  and  now  turning  to  cry 
out  her  gratitude  and  thankfulness  upon  my  breast. 

To  this  day  we  know  not  whence  it  came,  but  as 


310      A   DRAFT   ON   THE   BANK   OF    SPAIN 

Willow's  father  was  plainly  a  man  of  wealth,  and  as 
he  had  spoken  in  words  of  strong  feeling  to  my  wife 
of  the  little  service  she  had  tried  to  render  him,  I 
came  at  last  to  believe  that  the  gift  was  his.  At  all 
events,  we  heard  no  more  of  the  giver,  whoever  he 
may  have  been.  I  trust  that  he  has  been  the  better 
and  happier  for  all  the  kind  and  pleasant  things  my 
wife  has  said  of  him,  and  for  the  earnest  prayers  she 
said  that  night. 

While  we  were  still  talking  of  the  strange  gift, 
young  Willow  suddenly  returned,  and,  after  waiting 
a  moment,  found  a  chance  to  tell  us  that  his  father's 
room  was  empty,  and  to  ask  if  we  knew  where  he 
could  be.  I  felt  at  once  a  sense  of  alarm,  and  ran 
up-stairs  and  into  Mr.  Willow's  chamber.  The  bed 
had  not  been  slept  in.  Then  I  went  hastily  down  to 
the  shop,  followed  by  my  wife  and  the  lad.  On 
opening  the  door  the  first  thing  which  struck  me  was 
that  the  clocks  were  silent,  and  I  missed  their  ac- 
customed ticking.  This  once  for  years  they  had  not 
been  wound  up  on  Saturday  night,  as  was  the  clock- 
maker's  habit.  I  turned  to  his  workbench.  He  was 
seated  in  front  of  it,  his  head  on  his  hands,  watching 
the  pendulums  of  his  machine,  which  were  swinging 
merrily.  "  Mr.  Willow,"  said  I,  placing  a  hand  on 
his  shoulder,  "  are  you  sick  ?"  He  made  no  answer. 

"  Why  don't  he  speak  ?"  said  May,  with  a  scared 
face. 

"  He  will  never  speak  again,  my  darling,"  I  replied. 
"  He  is  dead !" 

I  have  little  to  add  to  this  simple  story.     On  in- 


A   DRAFT   ON   THE   BANK   OF    SPAIN       311 

quiry  I  found  that  the  stranger  had  left  the  city.  No 
claimant  came  for  our  money,  and  so,  after  a  little, 
having  buried  Mr.  Willow  in  the  Old  Swedes'  church- 
yard, we  went  away  with  his  son  to  the  West.  The 
lad  told  us  then  that  it  was  his  father's  desire  that  on 
his  death  he  should  take  his  true  name.  An  evil  fate 
went  with  it,  and  to-day  young  Tressilian  lies  in  a 
soldier's  nameless  grave  beneath  the  giant  shadows 
of  Lookout  Mountain, — one  more  sweet  and  honest 
life  given  for  the  land  he  had  learned  to  love  and 
honor. 


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F     '.' 


24  14     Mitchell   - 


A9 


Te  auto- 
biography 


of   a  quack, 


